In the light of the lamp creatures come and go,

Passing from pen to page in its eerie glow.

Far off places full of castles and kings,

Places where the world is happy and sings.

Sings it does of the wonders of old, 

Of dragons, knights, and goblins, and fortunes untold.

As I write down the secrets of its whispers so soft,

The light of the lamp grows warm in my loft.

With every line and careful stroke,

My heart grew sad and at last had broke.

For now the light has dies away,

And the creatures of fantasy gone on their way.