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The Land of Nursery Rhymes



In summer I am glad
WE children are so small,
For we can see a thousand things
That men canít see at all.

They donít know much about the moss
And all the stones they pass;
They never lie and play among
The forests in the grass.

They walk about a long way off;
And, when weíre at the sea,
Let father stoop as best he can
He canít find things like me.

But when the snow is on the ground,
And all the puddles freeze,
I wish that I were very tall,
High up above the trees.


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