Testo Another Child

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