Thousands of old men, weary and grey,
And the shouts of the showmen filled the air--
This way! This way! This way!

And _See-Saw_; _Margery Daw_; we heard a rollicking shout,
As the swing-boats hurtled over our heads to the tune of the roundabout;
And _Little Boy Blue, come blow up your horn_, we heard the showmen cry,
And _Dickory Dock, I'm as good as a clock_, we heard the swings reply.

This way, this way to your Heart's Desire;
Come, cast your burdens down;
And the pauper shall mount his throne in the skies,
And the king be rid of his crown:
And souls that were dead shall be fed with fire
From the fount of their ancient pain,
And your lost love come with the light in her eyes
Back to your heart again.

Ah, here be sure she shall never prove
Less kind than her eyes were bright;
This way, this way to your old lost love,
You shall kiss her lips to-night;
This way for the smile of a dead man's face
And the grip of a brother's hand,
This way to your childhood's heart of grace
And your home in Fairy-land.

_Dickory Dock, I'm as good as a clock_, d'you hear my swivels chime?
To and fro as I come and go, I keep eternal time.
O, little Bo-peep, if you've lost your sheep and don't know where
to find 'em,
Leave 'em alone and they'll come home, and carry their tails behind 'em.

And _See-Saw; Margery Daw_; there came the chorussing shout,
As the swing-boats answered the roaring tune of the rollicking
roundabout;
Dickory, dickory, dickory, dock, d'you hear my swivels chime?
Swing; swing; you're as good as a king if you keep eternal time.

Then we saw that the tunes of the world were one;
And the metre that guided the rhythmic sun
Was at one, like the ebb and the flow of the sea,
With the tunes that we learned at our mother's knee;
The beat of the horse-hoofs that carried us down
To see the fine Lady of Banbury Town;
And so, by the rhymes that we knew, we could tell
Without knowing the others--that all was well.

And then, our brains began to spin;
For it seemed as if that mighty din
Were no less than the cries of the poets and sages
Of all the nations in all the ages;
And, if they could only beat out the whole
Of their music together, the guerdon and goal
Of the world would be reached with one mig