To the Children

Lyrics

O children, open your arms to me Let your hair fall over my eyes; Let me sleep a moment - and then awake In your Garden of sweet Surprise! For the grown up folk Are a wearisome folk And they laugh all my fancies to scorn They laugh all my fancies to scorn O children, open your hearts to me And tell me your wonder-thoughts Who lives in the palace inside your brain? Who plays in its outer courts? Who hides in the hours To-morrow holds? Who sleeps in your Yesterdays? Who tiptoes along past the curtained folds Of the shadow that Twilight lays? O children, open your eyes to me And tell me your visions too; Who squeezes the sponge when the salt tears flow To dim their magical blue? Who brushes the fringe of their lace-veined lids? Who trims their innocent light? Who draws up the blinds when the sun peeps in? Who fastens them down at night? O children, I pray you speak low to me And cover my eyes with your hands O kiss me again till I sleep and dream That I'm lost in your Fairylands; For the grown up folk Are a troublesome folk And the book of their childhood is torn! Is blotted, and crumpled, and torn!