The things that happen every day
Are common things, so the grown folks say,
But I am a child, and I can see
Most wonderful happenings, all for me;
The flower can grow, and the bird can sing,
But each of these is a wonderful thing!
Away to the south, where the air rests sweet
On meadows of clover and fields of wheat,
Lives the Prince of the Wind, in a castle hewn
From a gray rock-hill that touches the moon;
And now and again, when the sky is bright
And the clouds of summer are floating white
The gates of the castle are opened wide
And the Prince of the Wind comes out to ride;
’Tis something just a child can see
And not for grown-ups, but for me.
In the meadow lands, where the lilies grow
Where the reapers sing and the cattle low
The river dreams as it moves to sea
And the heaven above smiles tenderly;
Over its waters she gently bends
And her glad, bright smile to its depths she sends
So magic sweet, that through and through
The river warms to a richer blue;
’Tis something just a child can see
And not for grown-ups, but for me.
The sun is a fire, so the grown-folks say
And warms the earth in a learned way;
But the sun is a great round crown, I know,
Of a giant who lost it years ago.
He was King of the Clouds, till one black day
The wind, in an anger, swept him away,
And his golden crown, like a living thing
Keeps moving about to find its king.
’Tis something just a child can see
And not for grown-ups, but for me.
When the night has come, and the lights are out,
And the shuddering shadows creep about
The moon shines in through the curtain lace
With her gentle eyes, and her quiet face,
And says with a smile that calms me, quite,
“I am God’s bright angel over the night,
So go to sleep; don’t be afraid;
For a child’s sweet comfort was I made”;
’Tis something just a child can see
And not for grown-ups, but for me.
I’m glad I’m a child, for it seems too bad
To miss so much that would make you glad.
