What can the children in cities do,
The children shut in from wholesome sport--
The children that live, all winter through,
In the dark little flat at the end of the court?
Yet a comfort they have (and a beautiful one!),
Though the days are chill and the days are short;
At noon, for a moment, looks in the sun,
In the dark little flat at the end of the court.
Then, the dazzled baby drops his toy,
Down tumbles the four-year-old's tottering fort--
"Sunshine!" they all cry out, in their joy,
In the dark little flat at the end of the court.