They called it just a book. It came
At Christmas with the other things.
They called it just a book . . . To me,
An eager child, it seemed to be
A great white ship that sailed the sea—
A ship with silver wings!
They called it just a book, and said
'Twas mine to keep. They never knew
How far from home I fared that year—
To palm-fringed beaches, white and queer,
Where swaggered many a buccaneer,
And opal dreams came true!
A book . . . They never knew.
