In Maine this week I came across a Brooklyn artifact. I suppose they are everywhere if you know how to spot them. This one was in a book of children's poetry I picked up at the Goodwill in N. Windham. It was written by a 9-year old girl, Nathalia Crane, and published in a New York paper at 1922. It makes me feel nostalgic for "spicy trees" of her imaginary refuge. I like to think these two are still out there on an overlooked island in Jamaica Bay.
The Janitor's Boy
Oh I'm in love with the janitor's boy,
And the janitor's boy loves me;
He's going to hunt for a desert isle
In our geography.
A desert isle with spicy trees
Somewhere near Sheepshead Bay;
A right nice place, just fit for two
Where we can live alway.
Oh I'm in love with the janitor's boy,
He's a busy as he can be;
And down in the cellar he's making a raft
Out of an old settee.
He'll carry me off, I know that he will,
For his hair is exceedingly red;
And the only thing that occurs to me
Is to dutifully shiver in bed.
That day that we sail, I shall leave this brief note,
For my parents I hate to annoy;
"I have flown away to an isle in the bay
With the janitor's red-haired boy."
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For some reason I recalled the first line of the poem that I learned in Grammr school–Brooklyn's PS 9, in the Slope–in 1945 or thereabout. My wife suggested I look it up. I had no idea that it was written by 9-year old Natalie Merchant nee Crane. in 2011. As a newly arrived immigrant to Brooklyn, from Italy, the poem reverberated with nostalgia and love I had not yet found. Also. that it took place in Brooklyn, was a welcome sign. Not England nor another far away place. The Janitor's Boy and the poetess lived in Brooklynn. I must have identified with him and the poem that still resonates in my 90-year old mind. Thank you for reprinting it. remocosentino@yahoo.com
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