Misty balls of rainbow stuff,
Sailing in the sun,
We have watched them as they grew,
Slowly, one by one.
Flowers they are that bud and blow,
Shining spheres of light;
Our eager hands would grasp them
Before they burst from sight.
Little brother, come and see!
Here’s a pretty thing,
Glowing like a fairy lamp,
Floating like a wing.
Magic colors gleam and go
In a glad surprise;
Can you reach the jewels there,
Little boy from ’cross-the-street,
Very straight and proud,
Blows the biggest one of all,
Rosy as a cloud;
Up it rises like a bird,
Trembles in the air,
Shines with all its soul for us,
Then is gone nowhere.
Sky has sent her sweetest blue,
Dawn has sent her rose,
River sends her laughter-lights,—
Don’t you just suppose?
Day has given clearness,—
Night has lent a star,—
And only happy children
Know what bubbles are.
Little boy from ’cross-the-street,
Little Let-Me-Too,
Thinks they’re made of undreamed dreams,
Glassed in morning dew;
Just perhaps they’re made of that;
We are glad they stay
For even little breathless whiles,