To all good children over four
And under four-and-eighty
Be you not over-prone to pore
On matters grave and weighty.
Mayhap you'll find within this book
Some touch of Youth's rare clowning,
If you will condescend to look
And not descend to frowning.
The mind of one small boy may hold
Odd fancies and inviting,
To guide a hand unsure and old
That moves, these days, to writing.
For hair once bright, in days of yore,
Grows grey (or somewhat slaty),
And now, alas, he's over four,
Though under four-and-eighty.