{
 "id": "edward-thomas/the-child-on-the-cliffs",
 "title": "The Child on the Cliffs",
 "ordinal": null,
 "subtitle": null,
 "poet": "Edward Thomas",
 "poet_slug": "edward-thomas",
 "language": "en",
 "book": "Last Poems",
 "book_slug": "last-poems",
 "book_kind": "volume",
 "sequence": 35,
 "container": null,
 "epigraph": null,
 "first_published": {
  "year": 1918,
  "venue": "Last Poems (1918)",
  "note": "First located printing is this volume; an earlier periodical printing has not been established.",
  "uncertain": false,
  "sources": [
   "https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22732"
  ]
 },
 "source": {
  "kind": "standard-ebooks",
  "repo": "standardebooks/edward-thomas_poetry",
  "file": "poetry.xhtml",
  "upstream": [
   "https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22423",
   "https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/22732",
   "https://www.google.com/books/edition/Collected_Poems/LMsEAQAAIAAJ",
   "https://www.google.com/books/edition/Two_Poems/3ycPAAAAQAAJ"
  ],
  "rights": "public domain (SE dedication; underlying text pre-1931)"
 },
 "verification": {
  "level": "structural-only",
  "last_checked": "2026-08-20"
 },
 "stats": {
  "n_lines": 24,
  "n_stanzas": 4,
  "n_parts": 0,
  "longest_line_chars": 65,
  "max_indent": 0
 },
 "site_ready": true,
 "parts": [],
 "stanzas": [
  [
   {
    "text": "Mother, the root of this little yellow flower",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Among the stones has the taste of quinine.",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Things are strange to-day on the cliff. The sun shines so bright,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "And the grasshopper works at his sewing-machine",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "So hard. Here’s one on my hand, mother, look;",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "I lie so still. There’s one on your book.",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ],
  [
   {
    "text": "But I have something to tell more strange. So leave",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Your book to the grasshopper, mother dear⁠—",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Like a green knight in a dazzling market-place⁠—",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "And listen now. Can you hear what I hear",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Far out? Now and then the foam there curls",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "And stretches a white arm out like a girl’s.",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ],
  [
   {
    "text": "Fishes and gulls ring no bells. There cannot be",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "A chapel or church between here and Devon,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "With fishes or gulls ringing its bell⁠—hark!⁠—",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Somewhere under the sea or up in heaven.",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "“It’s the bell, my son, out in the bay",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "On the buoy. It does sound sweet to-day.”",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ],
  [
   {
    "text": "Sweeter I never heard, mother, no, not in all Wales.",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "I should like to be lying under that foam,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "Dead, but able to hear the sound of the bell,",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "And certain that you would often come",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "And rest, listening happily.",
    "indent": 0
   },
   {
    "text": "I should be happy if that could be.",
    "indent": 0
   }
  ]
 ]
}