They saw it rise in the morning,
They saw it set at night,
And they longed to go and see it;
Ah, if they only might.
The little soft white clouds heard them,
And stepped from out of the blue,
And each laid a little child softly
Upon its bosom of dew.
And they carried them higher and higher,
And they nothing knew any more
Until they were standing waiting
In front of the round gold door.
And they knocked and called and entreated,
Whoever should be within;
But all to no purpose, for no one
Would hearken to let them in.
— Kate Greenaway