large/7359/childs_garden_of_verses_1503_librivox_64kb_mp3/childsgardenofverses_10_stevenson_64kb_14
large/7359/childs_garden_of_verses_1503_librivox_64kb_mp3/childsgardenofverses_10_stevenson_64kb
English
7359
I can climb the jointed grass And on high See the greater swallows pass In the sky, And the round sun rolling by Heeding no such things as I. I CAN CLIMB THE JARTY GRASSES AND ON HIGH THROUGH THE GREATER SWALLOWS PASS IN THE SKY AND THE RAM SUN ROLLING BY HEEDING NO SUCH THINGS AS I
 with staring eyes, The armies fade, the lustre dies. Then once again the glow returns; Again the phantom city burns; And down the red-hot valley, lo! The phantom armies marching go! Blinking embers, tell me true Where are those armies marching to, And what the burning city is That crumbles in your furnaces! [Illustration] THE LITTLE LAND When at home alone I sit, And am very tired of it, I have just to shut my eyes To go sailing through the skies-- To go sailing far away To the pleasant Land of Play; To the fairy land afar Where the Little People are; Where the clover-tops are trees, And the rain-pools are the seas, And the leaves, like little ships, Sail about on tiny trips; And above the daisy tree Through the grasses, High o'erhead the Bumble Bee Hums and passes. In that forest to and fro I can wander, I can go; See the spider and the fly, And the ants go marching by, Carrying parcels with their feet Down the green and grassy street. I can in the sorrel sit Where the ladybird alit.  CITIES BLAZING IN THE FIRE TILL AS I GAZE WITH STARING EYES THE ARMY'S FADE AND BLUSTER DIES THEN ONCE AGAIN THE GLOW RETURNS AGAIN THE FANTASTONE CITY BURNS AND DOWN THE RED HOT VALLEY LOW THE FENASHAN ARMY MARCHING GO BLINKING EMBERS TELL ME TRUE WHERE ARE THOSE MARCHING TOO AND WHAT THE BURNING CITY IS THAT CRUMBLES IN YOUR FURNACES THE LITTLE LAND WHEN AT HOME ALONE I SIT AND AM VERY TIRED OF IT I HAVE JUST TO SHUT MY EYES TO GO SAILING THROUGH THE SKIES TO GO SAILING FAR AWAY TO THE PLEASANT LAMP'S PLAY TO THE VERY GLAD TO FIRE WHERE THE LITTLE PEOPLE ARE WHERE THE CLOVER TOPS O TREES AND THE RAINCALLS ARE THE SEAS AND THE LEAVES ARE LIKE LITTLE SHIPS SAILABLE BOAT ON TINY TRIPS AND ABOVE THE DAISY TREE THROUGH THE GRASSES HIGH OVERHEAD THE BUMBLE BEE HUNG AND PASSES IN THAT FOREST TO GO AND FRO I CAN WANDER I CAN GO SEE THE SPIDER AND THE FLY AND LET ANT GO MARCHING BY CARRYING PARCELS WITH THEIR FEET DOWN THE GREEN GRAVY STREET I IN THE SORREL SEAT WHERE THE WEIGHTY BIRD ALIGHT
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