The first train leaves at six P. M. For the land where the poppy blows; And mother dear is the engineer, And the passenger laughs and crows. The palace-car is the mother's arms; The whistle, a low sweet strain; The passenger winks and nods and blinks, And goes to sleep in the train. At eight P. M. the next train starts For the Poppy-Land afar; The summons clear falls on the ear; "All aboard for the sleeping-car." But what is the fare to Poppy-Land? I hope it is not too dear; The fare is this, a hug and a kiss, And it's paid to the engineer. So I ask of Him who children took On His knee in kindness great: "Take charge, I pray, of the trains each day That leave at six and eight." "Keep watch of the passengers," thus I pray, "For to me they are very dear, And special ward, O gracious Lord, O'er the gentle engineer." |