At seven, when I go to bed, I find such pictures in my head: Castles with dragons prowling round, Gardens where magic fruits are found; Fair ladies prisoned in a tower, Or lost in an enchanted bower; While gallant horsemen ride by streams That border all this land of dreams I find, so clearly in my head At seven, when I go to bed. At seven, when I wake again, The magic land I seek in vain; A chair stands where the castle frowned, The carpet hides the garden ground, No fairies trip across the floor, Boots, and not horsemen, flank the door, And where the blue streams rippling ran Is now a bath and water-can; I seek the magic land in vain At seven, when I wake again.