The Land Where I Was Born

HAVE you ever been down to my countree 
  Where the trees are green and tall? 
The days are long and the heavens are high, 
  But the people there are small. 
There is no work there; it is always play; 
  The sun is sweet in the morn; 
But a thousand dark things walk at night 
  In the land where I was born. 
 
Have you ever been down to my countree 
  Where the birds made happy Spring? 
The parrots screamed from the honey-trees, 
  And the jays hopped chattering. 
Strange were the ways of the water-birds 
  In the brown swamps, night and morn; 
I knew the roads they had in the reeds 
  In the land where I was born. 
 
Have you ever been down to my countree? 
  Have you ridden the horses there? 
They had silver manes, and we made them prance 
  And plunge and gallop and rear. 
We were knights of the olden time, 
  When the old chain-mail was worn: 
The swords would flash and the helmets crash 
  In the land where I was born. 
 
Have you ever been down to my countree? 
  It was full of smiling queens: 
They had flaxen hair, they were white and fair, 
  But they never reached their teens. 
Their shoes were small and their dreams were tall: 
  Wonderful frocks were worn; 
But the queens all strayed from the place we played, 
  In the land where I was born. 
 
I know you have been to my countree 
  Though I never saw you there; 
I know you have loved all things I have loved, 
  Flowery, sweet, and fair. 
The days were long,—it was always play; 
  But we,—we were tired and worn; 
They could not welcome us back again 
  To the land where I was born.