At the top of the house is a world of play.
Rooms where children are noisy and gay.
Cable-cars rattle along the hall,
Down the stairway the dust showers fall.
Houses and shops, a cinema too,
A theatre grand with curtains of blue.
A band and a chapel, all complete,
With mount and avenue, road and street.
Funfairs and sideshows, a paddle boat,
And many a shout from a youthful throat.
The world outside may be busy and bright
But here in the attics is our delight.
The skylights grow dim, the children depart,
Rooms silent and shadowy are empty at heart.