For we are figures in a book – We do what we were invented for, But we can fashion nothing new And cannot change from what we are. But there’s a realm outside Fantastica, The Outer World is its name, The people who live there are rich indeed And not at all the same. Born of the Word, the children of man, Or humans, as they’re sometimes called, Have had the gift of giving names Ever since our worlds began, In every age it’s they who gave The Childlike Empress life, For wondrous new names have the power to save. But now for many and many a day, No human has visited Fantastica, For they no longer
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