The million forests of the Earth
come trooping in to tea.
The great Niagara waterfall
is never shy with me.

I am the Tiger's confidant,
and never mention names:
the Lion drops the formal "Sir,"
and lets me call him James.

Into my ear the blushing Whale
stammers his love. I know
why the Rhinoceros is sad,
-- ah, child! 'twas long ago.

I am akin to all the Earth
by many a tribal sign:
the aged Pig will often wear
that sad, sweet smile of mine.

My niece, the Barnacle, has got
my piercing eyes of black;
the Elephant has got my nose,
I do not want it back.

I know the strange tale of the Slug;
the Early Sin -- the Fall --
the Sleep -- the Vision -- and the Vow --
the Quest -- the Crown -- the Call.

And I have loved the Octopus,
since we were boys together.
I love the Vulture and the Shark:
I even love the weather.

I love to bask in sunny fields,
and when that hope is vain,
I go and bask in Baker Street,
all in the pouring rain.

Come snow! where fly, by some strange law,
hard snowballs -- without noise --
through streets untenanted, except
by good unconscious boys.

Come fog! Exultant mystery --
where, in strange darkness rolled,
the end of my own nose becomes
a lovely legend old.

Come snow, and hail, and thunderbolts,
sleet, fire, and general fuss;
come to my arms, come all at once --
oh photograph me thus!