Foreign Lands
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Up into the cherry tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad on foreign lands.

I saw the next-door garden lie,
Adorned with flowers before my eye,
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.

I saw the dimpling river pass 
And be the sky's blue looking-glass;
The dusty the roads go up and down,
With people tramping into town.

If I could find a higher tree
Farther and farther I should see,
To where the grown-up river slips 
Into the sea among the ships.

And where the roads on either hand
Lead onward into fairy-land,
Where all the children dine at five,
And all the playthings come alive.