The Swing

It struck me recently that I have gradually exited the pushing-kiddos-on-swings era. Nostalgia mingled sorrow with joy as I thought back on the countless hours spent propelling little ones high into the air, delighting in their giggles and shrieks, my heart soaring along with their little bodies, as I recited to them--oh, how many hundreds of times?--this poem by Robert Louis Stevenson.

The Swing

How do you like to go up in a swing,

Up in the air so blue?

 Oh, I do think it the pleasantest thing

 Ever a child can do!

 Up in the air

And over the wall

  

 Till I can see so wide,

River and trees and cattle and all

 

Over the countryside--

Till I look down on the garden green,

Down on the roof so brown--

 Up in the air I go flying again,

  

Up in the air

And down.