Dreams about a Star 113

ZL love my mother more than words
Can tell, also my father ;

L love my uncle, and his friends,
But still I wonder rather

Why God compels us to be old
Before we're tived of playing :

To sit in chairs, and talk, and still
Say nothing worth the saying.

But I suppose He made the world,
And put young children in it,

To pick His flowers, climb trees, and play;
And then He saw, next minute,

There must be people tales to tell
Lo children, and to feed them, —
To build them houses, and to find
Warm clothes, if they should need then.

So, children, come and play with me:
You soon will be grown older ;
And every day is as a night
That hourly groweth colder.

And you, who once were children too,
Be careful what youre saying,
Lest ever you should chance to speak
A word to stop our playing.”
eel