The Sand Bed

: Keep-well Stories For Little Folks

I have a sand bed, and there I play,

There in the sand for half the day.

And mother comes and sits by me;

And little sister likes to see

The many things I make of sand,

But she's too young to understand.

And then I make believe and say

My sand bed is the sunny bay;

These blocks are boats, and far away

They sail all night and sail all day,

And carry iron. When they return

They bring us coal that we may burn.

And now my sand bed is a farm.

This is the barn. Here, safe from harm,

My horses and my cows I keep.

These sheds are for the woolly sheep.

And there you see my piggie's pens.

The yard holds in the lively hens.

This is the garden, where I hoe

My plants: and here the flowers grow.

The sticks are pines, so straight, so tall

And dark. But these aren't half of all

The things I make each pleasant day

Out in the sand bed where I play.