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 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 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 fairyland, Where all the children dine at five, And all the playthings come alive.
By Robert Louis Stevenson