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The Town Child

I live in the town

In a street;

It is crowded with traffic

And feet;

There are buses and motors

And trams;

I wish there were meadows

And lambs.

The houses all wait

In a row,

There is smoke everywhere

That I go.

I don't like the noises

I hear —

I wish there were woods

Very near.

There is only one thing

That I love,

And that is the sky

Far above,

There is plenty of room

In the blue

For castles of clouds

And me, too!

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