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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