'I'll make believe, and fancy something strange: <br />I will suppose I have the power to change <br />And make all things unlike to what they were, <br />To jump through windows and fly through the air, <br />And quite confound all places and all times, <br />Like harlequins we see in pantomimes. <br />These thread-papers my wooden sword must be, <br />Nothing more like one I at present see. <br />And now all round this drawing-room I'll range, <br />And every thing I look at I will change. <br />Here's Mopsa, our old cat, shall be a bird; <br />To a Poll parrot she is now transferred. <br />Here's mamma's work-bag, now I will engage <br />To whisk this little bag into a cage; <br />And now, my pretty parrot, get you in it, <br />Another change I'll show you in a minute.' <br /> <br /> <br />'O fie, you naughty child, what have you done? <br />There never was so mischievous a son. <br />You've put the cat among my work, and torn <br />A fine laced cap that I but once have worn.'<br /><br />Charles Lamb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-mimic-harlequin/
