The Heart of a Child
Why was I given a child's wild heart?
I am tired of acting a woman's part,
And the world seems sordid and dull and coarse:
It was different in the days of play
When the soul was brave, and the heart was gay,
And one rode away to fairy land on a painted rocking horse.
I am tired of acting a woman's part,
And the world seems sordid and dull and coarse:
It was different in the days of play
When the soul was brave, and the heart was gay,
And one rode away to fairy land on a painted rocking horse.
My friend, you will never understand
How I dream of those rides to fairy land,
Of those long sweet rides in the firelit room;
When one started off with a leap and bound
On one's steed so quaintly caparisoned,
To the silvery sound of little bells that twinkled in the gloom.
How I dream of those rides to fairy land,
Of those long sweet rides in the firelit room;
When one started off with a leap and bound
On one's steed so quaintly caparisoned,
To the silvery sound of little bells that twinkled in the gloom.
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