The Outing
Reading edition
My Bed is like a little Bark, The hatch is battened down, And in the basket cabin dark I sail away from Town. Now, when they lift the lid, a scene Of wonder meets my eyes, Tall waving Feather-Dusters green, That seem to touch the skies. And over all the Ground is spread A Rug of Emerald sweet, Most deep enough to hide my head And tickly to my feet. And here’s the Cow, calm-eyed stands she, The Genie of the Jug, Beneath the Feather-Duster Tree, And eats the Emerald Rug.
