Image via Wikipediaby Robert Louis Stevenson
Up into the cherry tree
who should climb but little me?
I held the trunks with both my hands
and look abroad on foreign lands.
I saw the next-door garden lies,
adorned with flowers, before my eye,
and many pleasant faces 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 it to 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 hands
lead onward into fairy land,
where all the children dine at five
and all the playing things come alive.
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