I never saw the hills so far
And blue, the way the pictures are;
And flowers, flowers growing thick,
But not a one for me to pick!
The land was running from the train
All blurry through the window-pane;
And then it all looked flat and still,
When up there jumped a little hill!
I saw the windows and the spires,
And sparrows sitting on the wires;
And fences running up and down;
And then we cut straight through a town.
I saw a Valley, like a cup;
And ponds that twinkled, and dried up.
I counted meadows that were burnt;
And there were trees, and then there weren’t!
We crossed the bridges with a roar,
Then hummed the way we went before.
And tunnels made it dark and light
Like open-work of day and night;
Until I saw the chimneys rise,
And lights and lights and lights, like eyes.
And when they took me through the door,
I heard it all begin to roar.—
I thought, as far as I could see,
That everybody wanted me!
From The Singing Leaves by Josephine Preston Peabody (1903)
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