Up into
the cherry-tree
Who
should climb but little me?
I held
the trunk with both my hands
And
looked abroad on foreign lands.
I saw
the next-door garden lie,
Adorned
with flowers before my eye,
And
many pleasant places more
That
I had never seen before.
I saw
the dimpling river pass
And
be the sky’s blue looking glass;
The
dusty roads go up and down
With
people tramping into town.
If I
could find a higher tree
Farther
and farther I should see,
To where
the grown-up river slips
Into
the sea among the ships,
To where
the roads on either hand
Lead
onward into fairy land,
Where
all the children dine at five,
And
all the playthings come alive. |