Child! do not throw this book about! Refrain from the unholy pleasure Of cutting all the pictures out! Preserve it as your chiefest treasure. Child, have you never heard it said That you are heir to all the ages? Why, then, your hands were never made To tear these beautiful thick pages! Your little hands were made to take The better things and leave the worse ones: They also may be used to shake The Massive Paws of Elder Persons. And when your prayers complete the day, Darling, your little tiny hands Were also made, I think, to pray For men that lose their fairylands. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COTTER'S SATURDAY NIGHT by ROBERT BURNS EACH AND [OR, IN] ALL by RALPH WALDO EMERSON THE CONGO by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY RETURN OF SPRING by PIERRE DE RONSARD MY LIFE by HENRY DAVID THOREAU THE BROOK: SPRING by LAURA ABELL ON SEEING THE SUN SHINE ... MY WINDOW FOR THE FIRST TIME IN THE YEAR by LUCY AIKEN |