What if I climbed the mountain tall,

And could see the moon close by?

My papa says it is not so small

As it looks, ’way off in the sky.

Maybe it comes so near, up there,

That it touches the mountain side;

And what if it has a door somewhere?

Then I could get in and ride.

Away I ’d go,—’way up in the sky

To the house of the angels, where

All the dear little babies that die

With the white, white angels are.

And then I would coax our Baby May

Into the moon with me,

And we ’d sail away, and sail away,

As happy as we could be.

We would reach out hands out either side,

And gather the stars close by;

And, after a while, the moon would slide

To the other edge of the sky.

Soon as it reached the mountain there,

We would both get out of the moon,

And call papa, who would know just where

To come, and would find us soon.

And then he would see little Baby May,

And would take her upon his arm,

And hold my hand, and we ’d walk away

Down the hills to papa’s farm.

Then mamma would see us coming, I know,

And run to the gate and say,

“Why, little Sissy! where did you go?”

And then she would see little May,—

And then she would laugh,—O, it makes me cry,

To think how glad she would be!

She would say, “Who has been ’way up in the sky

To get my baby for me?”

“It was little Sissy,” papa would say,

“She went in the moon to-night,

And found little May, and coaxed her away

From the angels all so white.”

Then mamma would kiss me, and call me good,

And we ’d all go in at the door,

And have some supper; and May never would

Go up in the sky any more.