Playgrounds

In summer I am very glad

We children are so small,

For we can see a thousand things

That men can't see at all.

They don't know much about the

And all the stones they pass:

They never lie and play among

The forests in the grass:

They walk about a long way off;

And, when we're at the sea,

Let father stoop as best he can

He can't find things like me.

But, when the snow is on the ground

And all the puddles freeze,

I wish that I were very tall,

High up above the trees . . .