Classic Poem

When I've wished on my first star,
While the rest begin,
And the grass is waking up,
Oh, She calls us in! —
Then She calls us in.

But I wouldn't go, unless
I were sure there'd be
Something more like that, indoors,
Something more to see, —
Beautiful to see.

So She lights the candle then,
Where the shadows are,
And it stands, and holds its breath —
Then it makes a Star, —
Then it makes a Star!

I curl up for my good-night,
Dark, where I can see.
And I watch the Candle-light
Till It looks at me,
Oh, It looks at me!