Another Child - Faey

As from the house your mother sees

You playing round the garden trees

So you may see, if you will look

Through the windows of this book

Another child, far, far away

And in another garden, play

But do not think you can at all

By knocking on the window, call

That child to hear you.

He intent

Is all on his play-business bent

He does not hear;

he will not look

Nor yet be lured out of this book

For, long ago, the truth to say

He has grown up and gone away

And it is but a child of air

That lingers in the garden there

As from the house your mother sees

You playing round the garden trees

So you may see, if you will look

Through the windows of this book