Lend me your precious toys, But for one day and night; I'll take them under my orchard boughs, And nurse them out of sight; Till my two hands, all warm with love, Fill them with breath, and make them move! And when Night comes, a grey-haired child Shall hobble off to bed; With rabbits, mice and little birds Around his face and head; Where in your toys his secret lies — To keep his childhood till he dies. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ROBERT OF LINCOLN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT UPON HIS DEPARTURE HENCE by ROBERT HERRICK TO HIS DEAD BODY by SIEGFRIED SASSOON THE FRONTIER GUARD by ANTON ALEXANDER VON AUERSPERG A CURLEW'S CALL by JANE BARLOW SONNET: 6 by RICHARD BARNFIELD ADDRESS TO HIS NATIVE VALE by ROBERT BLOOMFIELD |