UNDER a tree where the breezes blow, <br />There is the spot that it's good to go <br />With the children bronzed by the Summer sun, <br />Bubbling with laughter and wholesome fun; <br />And I gather them round — all the happy clan, <br />And forget for a while I'm a grizzled old man. <br /> <br />Marjorie, Florence, and fair Lucille, <br />Freddy and Denny — and then we steal <br />An hour or two from the clock of life, <br />The quest of gold and the constant strife, <br />The clamor and noise of a city day <br />For the peace and joy of a bit of play. <br /> <br />Pirate stories for boys we tell, <br />For there is the place to tell them well; <br />With treasure islands we build in sand, <br />And we mark the spot where the pirates land, <br />And even the place where the gold was hid <br />By that master of pirates, old Captain Kidd. <br /> <br />Then we leave the pirates and run away <br />To the wonderful glens where the fairies play; <br />And under the tree where the breezes are <br />We summon the fairies with crown and star, <br />And I tell of the wonderful things they do <br />When the sun is up and the skies are blue. <br /> <br />And the far off world may call and call, <br />But I never hear through my little wall <br />Of innocent youngsters that hem me in. <br />I finish one tale and a new begin; <br />And there we sit underneath the tree <br />Till mother calls all of us in for tea.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/under-a-tree-3/
