Classic Poem

A VERSION .

W E went to the window, Bob and I,
Someone declaring the night so fine,
And watched the wonderful winter sky
Sparkle with frosty stars and shine,
And gleam, I thought, like the hugely high
Cavern-roof of a jewel mine.

Bob is a small philosopher;
I am the sire of the tender sage,
And half expect him to make a stir
Out in the world when he comes of age,
Though as yet his infant character
Only has reached the hopeful stage.

Bobby has curious thoughts and wise,
Some, like himself, could stand alone,
Yet might, when they leave a father's eyes,
Tumble down or be overthrown,
For none can properly sympathise
With thoughts or children not their own.

Now this winter night in the starry light,
Bob said a notable thing to me;
He asked, and his voice so low and slight
Sounded somewhere about my knee, —
" If the bottom of heaven looks so bright,
Father, what must the inside be? "