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When I go on my morning walk,
          Because I'm mild,
If I be in the mood to talk
          I choose a child.
I'd rather prattle with a lass
          Of tender age
Than converse in the high-brow class
          With college sage.

I love the touch of silken hand
          That softly clings;
In old of age I understand
          Life's little things.
I love the lisp of tiny tongue
          And trusting eyes;
These are the joys that keep me young
          As daylight dies.

For as to second childhood I
          Draw gently near,
With happy heart I see the why
          Children are dear.
So wise Professor, go your way,--
          I am beguiled
To wistful loving by the gay
          Laugh of a child.

Added: 29 Jun 2002 | Last Read: 4 Sep 2026 3:27 AM | Viewed: 5083 times

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