This was another hysterical prompt (optional) where we were prompted (optionally) to take a poem written by another author and make another poem out of those words. Then we crossed out the words that we used and if we could, write a poem from them and so on and on.

Of course I had to choose a poem by Longfellow because I am also reading a book of local history written by John Ogden Wadsworth. Each word I took out of the original made my poem sillier and sillier!

I chose:
THE CHILD ASLEEP (From the French) by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Sweet babe! true portrait of thy father’s face,
Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed!
Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place.
Thy drowsy eyelid on thy mother’s breast.

Upon that tender eye my little friend,
Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to me!
I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend; –
‘T is sweet to watch for thee, – alone for thee!

His arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow;
His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams of harm.
Wore not his cheek the apple’s ruddy glow,
Would you not say he slept on Death’s cold arm?

Awake my boy! – I tremble with affright!
Awake, and chase this fatal thought! – Unclose
Thine eye but for one moment on the light!
Even at the price of thine, give me repose!

Sweet error! – he but slept, – I breathe again; –
Come, gentle dreams, the hour of sleep beguile.
O! when shall he, for whom I sigh in vain,
Beside me watch to see thy waking smile?

Then removed some words:
Sweet babe! true portrait of thy father’s face,
Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed!
Sleep, little one; and closely, gently place.
Thy drowsy eyelid on thy mother’s breast.

Upon that tender eye my little friend,
Soft sleep shall come, that cometh not to me!
I watch to see thee, nourish thee, defend; –
‘T is sweet to watch for thee, – alone for thee!

His arms fall down; sleep sits upon his brow;
His eye is closed; he sleeps, nor dreams of harm.
Wore not his cheek the apple’s ruddy glow,
Would you not say he slept on Death’s cold arm?

Awake my boy! – I tremble with affright!
Awake, and chase this fatal thought! – Unclose
Thine eye but for one moment on the light!
Even at the price of thine, give me repose!

Sweet error! – he but slept, – I breathe again; –Come, gentle dreams, the hour of sleep beguile.
O! when shall he, for whom I sigh in vain,
Beside me watch to see thy waking smile?

Then I removed some more words (which made it silly and nonsenceble):

Sweet true portrait.
Lips sleep on
Closely. Sleep,
thy mother’s eyelid.

Upon my eye
shall that cometh.
See thee nourish
alone is sweet.

Arms fall down.
Eye is closed.
Wore the ruddy.
Slept he on.

With tremble, I
chase this thought
but one moment.
Give me thine.

He but slept
hour of sleep.
Whom I shall.
watch to see.

Removing some more:

Thy babe
that have thy
little one
drowsy

Little friend,
soft sleep come.
I watch
for thee.

Sleep sits.
He sleeps.
Apples,
you say.

Awake!
Fatal
for thine
price.

Error!
the dreams!
O!
Waking.

Running out of words here!

Of
and
on
thy.

To ‘t
His,
nor his
would.

My boy,
and even
of sweet
gentle, for me.