Classic Poem

Where do the children fly
When they are dreaming?
Straight to the Plaything Sky,
Soaring and beaming.

Over the Wonder Sea
Sparkle the darlings,
Clapping their hands with glee,
Singing like starlings.

Wonderful lands appear,
Wonderful cities;
Wonderful talk they hear,
Wonderful ditties.

Squirrels come out to them,
Butterflies sing to them,
Guinea-pigs shout to them,
Tulip-bells ring to them.

Hosts of tin soldier men
Wave their tin banners,
Candy-wigged aldermen
Make their wigged manners.

Gingerbread gentles whack
Gingerbread ponies;
Sugarstick ladies smack
Sugarstick cronies.

Sitting in royal state,
Counting her tea things,
Giggles the little-great
Queen of the playthings.

Manikin troopers stand
Round her wee palace;
Manikin maidens hand
Cream-pot and chalice.

Wooden horns clamor out,
“Children are coming”;
Wooden drums hammer out
Welcome becoming.

Down trips her majesty,
Smiling and kissing;
Roundabout busses she,
Not a child missing.

Then to her regal hall
Kindly she leads them;
Gives them her playthings all,
Aprons and feeds them

Gaily the children play,
Chatter and simper;
Then, of a sudden, they
Wake up and whimper.

Where is the Plaything Queen?
Where are her treasures?
Gone to the Neverseen—
Gone, like earth's pleasures.