What I say you'll scarce believe,

Yet my words shall not deceive.

I saw what seem'd a little Boy,

With a face of life and joy;

He danced, he ran, he nodded, he smiled,

Just like any other Child;

But could not speak, (how strange was this!)

Or cry, or breathe, nor could I kiss,

To save my life, the cherry red

Of lips, not living and not dead!

He was no picture, statue, doll;

He was not a Child at all;

He was Nothing, as near as could be,

He was as real as you or me.

—There he is: turn and see!