Part 2 — THE SAND BED

I have a sand bed, and there I play, There in the sand for half the day. And mother comes and sits by me; And little sister likes to see The many things I make of sand, But she's too young to understand. And then I make believe and say My sand bed is the sunny bay; These blocks are boats, and far away They sail all night and sail all day, And carry iron. When they return They bring us coal that we may burn. And now my sand bed is a farm. This is the barn. Here, safe from harm, My horses and my cows I keep. These sheds are for the woolly sheep. And there you see my piggie's pens. The yard holds in the lively hens. This is the garden, where I hoe My plants: and here the flowers grow. The sticks are pines, so straight, so tall And dark. But these aren't half of all The things I make each pleasant day Out in the sand bed where I play.