Classic Poem

You who to the rounded prime
Of a life of toil and stress,
Still have kept the morning-time
Of glad youth in heart and spirit,
So your laugh, as children hear it,
Seems their own, no less, —
Take this book of childish rhyme —
The Book of Joyous Children.

Their first happiness on earth
Here is echoed — their first glee:
Rich, in sooth, the volume's worth —
Not in classic lore, but rich in
The child-sagas of the kitchen; —
Therefore, take from me
To your heart of childish mirth
The Book of Joyous Children.