The Swing

(For Sale: A child’s swing, used)

I came to buy the swing.

You advertised a swing, Ma’am?

Oh yes, the swing – a lovely swing.

We bought it only yesterday it seems.

It was our son’s fifth birthday.

Put it right here, love,

Here by my kitchen window.

I want to watch my darlings

As they play and swing,

For all too soon

I fear, they will be grown.

Look at the baby now,

Reaching for the ropes

And trying out her tiny hands

To pull herself up on the seat.

And look! she’s swaying

Back and forth

Her plumpness holding to the swing

And vying gravity

To pull her to the ground.

And Scott, he takes such care of her,

To see she gets no bumps

If he can help it.

Is it my swing, Mother,

Because it came on my birthday?

No, Sweet, it belongs to all three of you.

Daddy and I only thought

This was a good day

To buy a swing.

There, Becky Dear, you hold the baby Joan

And swing and sing to her

As I have sung to you

So many times

When we sat, you and I

In the big rocking chair,

Singing and pretending

The chair was a lovely swing,

A lovely, lovely swing.

Mother, the man is waiting.

He came to buy the swing.

Oh yes, Joanie, the swing.

You ask what price is it?

Do you have little ones, sir,

Who will use the swing?

Yes, Ma’am, three of them.

Take it then – there is no price.

I ask only this:

That you put the swing

By a window

And watch your little ones

As they swing,

As they swing, as they swing.

Grace Abia Brown Shriner

1911 - 2007