Down by a shining water well I found a very little dell, No higher than my head. The heather and the gorse about In summer bloom were coming out, Some yellow and some red. I called the little pool a sea: The little hills were big to me; For I am very small. I made boat, I made a town, I searched the caverns up and down, And named them one and all. And all about was mine, I said, The little sparrows overhead, The little minnows, too. This was the world and I was king: For me the bees came by to sing, For me the swallows flew. I played there were no deeper seas, Nor any wilder plains than these, Nor other kings than me. At last I hear my mother call Out from the house at evenfall, To call me home to tea. And I must rise and leave my dell, And leave my dimpled water well, And leave my heather blooms. Alas! and as my home I neared, How very big my nurse appeared, How great and cool the rooms! Some children do not even need _objects_ as a starting point for their imaginative activity. They can just conjure up persons and things to serve as material for their play. Many children, when alone, have imaginary companions. One little boy, when taken out for his airing, daily met an imaginary friend, whom he called "Buster." As soon as he stepped out of the house he uttered a peculiar call, to which Buster replied--though no one but he heard him--and he would run to meet him and they would have a lovely time together, sometimes for hours at a stretch. Another little child received a daily visit from an imaginary cow. There was a certain place in the living-room where this red cow with white spots would appear. The child would go through the motions of feeding her, patting her, and bringing her water. In these two cases the "companionship" lasted but a few months, but there are children whose imaginary companions grow up with them and get older as they get older. [Illustration: Imagination supplies this two-year-old a prancing steed.] In some instances there is a group of such imaginary companions, and their activities constitute "a continued story," of which the child is a living centre, although not necessarily the hero. It seems to me that the power to create his own friends must be a great boon to a child who is forced to be alone a great deal or has no congenial companions. There need be no fear--except perhaps in very extreme cases--that such activity of the imagination is morbid. A little girl who plays with her dolls is really doing the same thing, only that she has a symbol for each of her imaginary companions.