Where am I going? The clouds sail by, Little ones, baby ones, over the sky. Where am I going? The shadows pass, Little ones, baby ones, over the grass. If you were a cloud, and sailed up there, You’d sail on water as blue as air, And you’d see me here in the fields and say: “Doesn’t the sky look green to-day?” Where am I going? The high rooks call: “It’s awful fun to be born at all.” Where am I going? The ring-doves coo: “We do have beautiful things to do.” If you were a bird, and lived on high, You’d lean on the wind when the wind came by, You’d say to the wind when it took you away: “_That’s_ where I wanted to go to-day!” Where am I going? I don’t quite know. What does it matter where people go? Down to the wood where the blue-bells grow— Anywhere, anywhere. _I_ don’t know. [Illustration: Boy examining blue-bells] [Illustration: Boy on beach watching waves] THE ISLAND If I had a ship, I’d sail my ship, I’d sail my ship Through Eastern seas; Down to a beach where the slow waves thunder— The green curls over and the white falls under— Boom! Boom! Boom! On the sun-bright sand. Then I’d leave my ship and I’d land, And climb the steep white sand, And climb to the trees, The six dark trees, The coco-nut trees on the cliff’s green crown— Hands and knees To the coco-nut trees, Face to the cliff as the stones patter down, Up, up, up, staggering, stumbling, Round the corner where the rock is crumbling, Round this shoulder, Over this boulder, Up to the top where the six trees stand. . . . And there would I rest, and lie, My chin in my hands, and gaze At the dazzle of sand below, And the green waves curling slow, And the grey-blue distant haze Where the sea goes up to the sky. . . . And I’d say to myself as I looked so lazily down at the sea: “There’s nobody else in the world, and the world was made for me.” THE THREE FOXES Once upon a time there were three little foxes Who didn’t wear stockings, and they didn’t wear sockses, But they all had handkerchiefs to blow their noses, And they kept their handkerchiefs in cardboard boxes. [Illustration: Foxes asleep] They lived in the forest in three little houses, And they didn’t wear coats, and they didn’t wear trousies. They ran through the woods on their little bare tootsies, And they played “Touch last” with a family of mouses. [Illustration: Foxes fishing] They didn’t go shopping in the High Street shopses, But caught what they wanted in the woods and copses. They all went fishing, and they caught three wormses, They went out hunting, and they caught three wopses. [Illustration: Foxes hunting]