I must be dreaming through the days br And see the world with childish eyes br If I'd go singing all my life br And my songs be wise br And in the kitchen or the house br Must wonder at the sights I see. br And I must hear the throb and hum br That moves to song in factory. br So much in life remains unsung, br And so much more than love is sweet. br I'd like a song of kitchenmaids br With steady fingers and swift feet. br And I could sing about the rest br That breaks upon a woman's day br When dinner's over and she lies br Upon her bed to dream and pray br Until the children come from school br And all her evening work begins. br There's more in life than tragic love br And all the storied, splendid sins.