By Robert Louis Stevenson
ReadOasis Step 2
Up into the cherry tree
Who should climb but little me?
I held the tree with both my hands
And looked abroad in foreign lands.
I saw the next door garden lie,
Graced with flowers, before my eye,
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.
I saw the flowing river pass
And be the sky’s blue looking-glass;
The dusty roads go up and down
With people marching into town.
If I could find a higher tree
Farther and farther I should see,
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