Children, if you dare to think

Of the greatness, rareness, muchness

Fewness of this precious only

Endless world in which you say

You live, you think of things like this:

Blocks of slate enclosing dappled

Red and green, enclosing tawny

Yellow nets, enclosing white

And black acres of dominoes,

Where a neat brown paper parcel

Tempts you to untie the string.

In the parcel a small island,

On the island a large tree,

On the tree a husky fruit.

Strip the husk and pare the rind off:

In the kernel you will see

Blocks of slate enclosed by dappled

Red and green, enclosed by tawny

Yellow nets, enclosed by white

And black acres of dominoes,

Where the same brown paper parcel -

Children, leave the string alone!

For who dares undo the parcel

Finds himself at once inside it,

On the island, in the fruit,

Blocks of slate about his head,

Finds himself enclosed by dappled

Green and red, enclosed by yellow

Tawny nets, enclosed by black

And white acres of dominoes,

With the same brown paper parcel

Still untied upon his knee.

And, if he then should dare to think

Of the fewness, muchness, rareness,

Greatness of this endless only

Precious world in which he says

he lives - he then unties the string.