Foreign Lands

Up into the cherry tree

Who should climb but little me?

I held the trunk with both my hands

And looked abroad on foreign lands.

I saw the next-door garden lie,

Adorned with flowers before my eye,

And many pleasant places more

Than I had never seen before.

I saw the dimpling ^[1] river pass

And be the sky's blue looking-glass ^[2] ;

The dusty roads go up and down

With people tramping ^[3] in to town.

If I could find a higher tree

Farther and farther I should see,

To where the grown-up river slips

Into the sea among the ships,

To where the roads on either hand

Lean onward into fairy land,

Where all the children dine at five,

And all the playthings come alive.

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[1] dimple [ˈdimpl] v． 起涟漪

[2] looking-glass [ˈlukiŋˈɡlæs] n． 镜子

[3] tramp [træmp] v． 重步行走 nYkGqeSN2Gz/PYGzSDhkyObOPU1m+c4VOXvu2tymGFKt13rq6H70ZawzF5ufCzA5