The Ancient of Days

A child sits in a sunny place,Too happy for a smile,And plays through one long holidayWith balls to roll and pile;A painted wind-mill by his sideRuns like a merry tune,But the sails are the four great winds of heaven,And the balls are the sun and moon.

A staring doll's-house shows to himGreen floors and starry rafter,And many-coloured graven dollsLive for his lonely laughter.The dolls have crowns and aureoles,Helmets and horns and wings.For they are the saints and seraphim,The prophets and the kings.