When we were children and remote from cities,
My sister, being youngest, walked about the garden
In profound converse with unseen companions.
And some were harbingers of highest bliss,
And some were commonplace and comfortable;
Others obtuse, received with argument,
And some, unamiable, must be scolded:
And some dismissed at once with looks of scorn
And good-bye and good-day to you.
At times I too address my thoughts
To an imaginary visitant.
From a Garden in the Antipodes (Sidgwick & Jackson, 1929)