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.