Make-Believe Land

By Peter Burn

My three little darlings,
Half buried in sand,
Are “playing at houses”
In make-believe land.
Claudine is “my lady,”
Maria is “maid,”
And Ella is “waiter,”
The table is laid.
The feast-bidden playmates
Are just coming in;
And there is a clatter,
And there is a din.
A scraping, a bowing,
A shaking of hand;
They follow the fashion
In make-believe land.
Play on, little darlings,
So wise in your day;
You brighten with posey
The prose of the way.
Perhaps in the future,
Like me you will stand,
And picture the pleasures
Of make-believe land.
Play on, little darlings!
I join in your play;
The heart may be youthful
Though head may be grey.

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