WHEN WE WERE
VERY YOUNG
[Illustration: HALFWAY DOWN]
when
we were very
young
by
a.a.milne
e.p.dutton & co.
Copyright, 1924
By E. P. DUTTON COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
_First Published in 1924_
_First Edition Nov., 1924
Second Edition Dec., 1924
Third Edition 〃 1924
Fourth Edition 〃 1924
Fifth Edition 〃 1924
Sixth Edition 〃 1924
Seventh Edition 〃 1924
Eighth Edition Jan., 1925
Ninth Edition 〃 1925
Tenth Edition 〃 1925
Eleventh Edition 〃 1925
Twelfth Edition 〃 1925
Thirteenth Edition 〃 1925
Fourteenth Edition 〃 1925
Fifteenth Edition 〃 1925
Sixteenth Edition 〃 1925
Seventeenth Edition Mar., 1925
Eighteenth Edition 〃 1925
Nineteenth Edition 〃 1925
Twentieth Edition 〃 1925
Twenty-first Edition 〃 1925
Twenty-second Edition 〃 1925
Twenty-third Edition 〃 1925_
_Printed in the United States of America_
TO
CHRISTOPHER ROBIN MILNE
OR
AS HE PREFERS TO CALL HIMSELF
BILLY MOON
THIS BOOK
WHICH OWES SO MUCH TO HIM
IS NOW
HUMBLY OFFERED
JUST BEFORE WE BEGIN
At one time (but I have changed my mind now) I thought I was going to
write a little Note at the top of each of these poems, in the manner
of Mr. William Wordsworth, who liked to tell his readers where he was
staying, and which of his friends he was walking with, and what he was
thinking about, when the idea of writing his poem came to him. You
will find some lines about a swan here, if you get as far as that, and
I should have explained to you in the Note that Christopher Robin, who
feeds this swan in the mornings, has given him the name of “Pooh.”
This is a very fine name for a swan, because, if you call him and he
doesn’t come (which is a thing swans are good at), then you can
pretend that you were just saying “Pooh!” to show how little you
wanted him. Well, I should have told you that there are six cows who
come down to Pooh’s lake every afternoon to drink, and of course they
say “Moo” as they come. So I thought to myself one fine day, walking
with my friend Christopher Robin, “Moo rhymes with Pooh! Surely there
is a bit of poetry to be got out of that?” Well, then, I began to
think about the swan on his lake; and at first I thought how lucky it
was that his name was Pooh; and then I didn’t think about that any
more ... and the poem came quite differently from what I intended ...
and all I can say for it now is that, if it hadn’t been for
Christopher Robin, I shouldn’t have written it; which, indeed, is all
I can say for any of the others. So this is why these verses go about
together, because they are all friends of Christopher Robin; and if I
left out one because it was not quite like the one before, then I
should have to leave out the one before because it was not quite like
the next, which would be disappointing for them.
Then there is another thing. You may wonder sometimes who is supposed
to be saying the verses. Is it the Author, that strange but
uninteresting person, or is it Christopher Robin, or some other boy
or girl, or Nurse, or Hoo? If I had followed Mr. Wordsworth’s plan I
could have explained this each time; but, as it is, you will have to
decide for yourselves. If you are not quite sure, then it is probably
Hoo. I don’t know if you have ever met Hoo, but he is one of those
curious children who look four on Monday, and eight on Tuesday, and
are really twenty-eight on Saturday, and you never know whether it is
the day when he can pronounce his “r’s.” He had a great deal to do
with these verses. In fact, you might almost say that this book is
entirely the unaided work of Christopher Robin, Hoo, and Mr. Shepard,
who drew the pictures. They have said “Thank you” politely to each
other several times, and now they say it to you for taking them into
your house. “Thank you so much for asking us. We’ve come.”