When children are playing alone on the green, <br />In comes the playmate that never was seen. <br />When children are happy and lonely and good, <br />The Friend of the Children comes out of the wood. <br /> <br />Nobody heard him, and nobody saw, <br />His is a picture you never could draw, <br />But he's sure to be present, abroad or at home, <br />When children are happy and playing alone. <br /> <br />He lies in the laurels, he runs on the grass, <br />He sings when you tinkle the musical glass; <br />Whene'er you are happy and cannot tell why, <br />The Friend of the Children is sure to be by! <br /> <br />He loves to be little, he hates to be big, <br />'T is he that inhabits the caves that you dig; <br />'T is he when you play with your soldiers of tin <br />That sides with the Frenchmen and never can win. <br /> <br />'T is he, when at night you go off to your bed, <br />Bids you go to sleep and not trouble your head; <br />For wherever they're lying, in cupboard or shelf, <br />'T is he will take care of your playthings himself!<br /><br />Robert Louis Stevenson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-unseen-playmate/
