If we should stretch our souls on high

To pluck the stars down from the sky,

And lay them on the cool, green grass

For all the people that might pass

To wonder over and admire,

Such worlds of wealth would like revealed -

The very heart of earth would come on fire,

Its burning essence well-up unsealed.

But do not play with stars as knuckle-bones

Nor pocket them for pretty stones:

Barter not, nor buy with them

Your children's sweets, comics and ice cream cones.