Gateway to the Classics: Display Item
Rachel Lyman Field

Toadstool Town

At the edge of the old fir wood

From the tufted green and brown

Of moss and fern—have you seen them rise—

The spires of Toadstool Town?

Have you watched the faint smoke mount

From those pointed roofs and gay?

Have you marked how they clustered peak on peak—

And found them gone next day?