  If all the trees were magic trees And talked among themselves, If kings could sleep in daffodils And bishops danced on window-sills, If all the valleys changed to hills And all the tens to twelves, The world would be nonsensical, And we should all be elves. If every street in Camden Town Were paved with precious stones, If modest souls began to drape Their table-legs in decent crape, If every squirrel wore a cape And had the name of Jones, I'd weave a robe of beetles' eyes And jellyfishes' bones. If kingcups blossomed in the sky And fell like golden rain In grey half-light shot through and through With shafts of green and shafts of blue, If pink and purple chickweed grew On every window pane, All truly tidy folk would deem The universe insane. If we were sensible enough To hear the bluebells ring, Were sight so true and hearts so wise That we could see with glowing eyes Enchantment flaming from the skies And joy in everything, Then every girl a queen would be, And every boy a king. |
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