Children,
you are very little,
And
your bones are very brittle;
If you
would grow great and stately,
You
must try to walk and sedately.
You must
still be bright and quiet,
And
content with simple diet;
And
remain, through all bewild'ring.
Innocent
and honest children.
Happy
hearts and happy faces,
Happy
play in grassy places
That
was how, in ancient ages,
Children
grew to kings and sages.
But the
unkind and the unruly,
And
the sort to eat unduly,
They
must never hope for glory –
Theirs
is quite a different story!
Cruel
children, crying babies,
All
grow up as geese and gabies,
Hated,
as their age increases,
By their
nephews and their nieces. |