Classic Poem

A little child sat on the floor,
Turning the pages o'er and o'er,
Of Mother Goose's nursery book;
He raised his eyes with puzzled look,
And said, " Mamma, attention lend,
And tell me: Where do school days end? "

My boy, that is no easy task —
A weighty question 'tis you ask;
For every day adds to our store
Of knowledge gained the day before;
So you must ask some wiser friend
To tell you, where school days will end.

The parson came that very day,
His usual pastoral call to pay;
The child stole in with cunning look,
And on a stool his seat he took.
Sir, will you information lend,
And tell me, where school days will end?

The parson with astonished air,
Pushed his fingers through his hair;
Little child I am much afraid,
That I can give but little aid;
But my best efforts I will lend,
To tell you, where school days will end.

There is a land of light you know,
Where all good people are to go —
Where little children rob'd in white,
Are ever happy in God's sight.
And when you die He'll angels send,
To take you where school days shall end.