PRELUDE

Seated in our easy chair—

All upon a rainy day—

Let us not be in despair

If the weather be not fair;

We have toys with which to play.

But the toys, alas! will break,

All the Noah’s Ark flock disband,

And the chairs which help to make

Farms and barnyards, nurse will take,

For she cannot understand.

Gone is every boat and train,

Disappeared—we know not where;

Dobbin there, without his mane,

Never’ll be the same again,—

Hiding is the Teddy bear.

14And the leaden regiment

Disobeys each stern command;

Some are broken, others lent,

Some are lost, and some are bent,

Very few of them will stand.

We might play the Christmas game,

Kept intact a solid year,

But the Santa Claus is lame,

And the dice gone. What a shame!

Not a single counter here!

What care we for games and toys,

All upon a rainy day?

What care we if little boys—

Conjured not to make a noise—

Find it hard indoors to play?

15There are toys they do not know,

In a land they’ve never seen,

Where we all of us can go,

Where the litter does not show,

And the nursery’s always clean.

What care we for skies of gray,

Broken toys and pelting rains?

We’ve a land of endless play,

All upon a rainy day,

Stored within our brains.

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