TO PETER PAN IN KENSINGTON GARDENS.
Dear Peter, on your tree of bronze
Where children feed the ducks and swans,
Dear Peter, play a tune—don't wait
Till big policemen shut the gate
And leave you lonely—blow, O blow
The music that the children know.
Dear Peter, you need have no fear
Lest grown-up folks should overhear—
Too grave and busy for such glee
They will not heed your minstrelsy.
Your pipe is at your lips—please blow
For we are waiting here below.
The birds and fairies in the park
Can hear you piping after dark,
But we must hear you now, you see,
Before Nurse takes us home to tea.
I think she's coming . . . Do just blow
One tiny tune before we go!