All in the Golden Afternoon

All in the golden afternoon
Full leisurely we glide
For both our oars, with little skill
By little arms are plied
While little hands make vain pretence
Our wanderings to guide
Our wanderings to guide

Ah, cruel three! In such an hour
Beneath such dreamy weather
To beg a tale of breath too weak
To stir the tiniest feather
Yet what can one poor voice avail
Against three tongues together?
Against three tongues together...

Our wanderings to guide

Anon, to sudden silence won,
In fancy they pursue
The dream-child moving through a land
Of wonders wild and new,
In friendly chat with bird or beast
And half believe it true
And half believe it true

And ever as the story drained
The wells of fancy dry
And faintly strove that weary one
To put the subject by the next time
It is next time!
The happy voices cry
The happy voices cry

Thus grew the tale of wonderland
Thus slowly one by one
Its quaint events were hammered out
And now the tale is done
And home we steer
(And half believe it true)
A merry crew
Beneath the setting sun