Classic Poem

I saw a little black child
Sitting in a gold circle of sunlight;
And in his little black hand,
He had a little black stick,
And he was beating, beating,
With his little black stick,
The sunlight all about him,
And laughing, laughing.

And he was so fat,
There were dimples at his tiny, wriggling toes,
And at his knees,
And at his elbows,
And at his fingers,
And in his cheeks,
And in his little chin.

And his black hair was plaited
Into innumerable, little braids,
All over his little head;
Very even, very fine, very cunning,
They were.

And his skin was ebon, beautiful,
With a bloom, a shining gleam upon it
O! he was all black,
Save for his tiny white teeth
And the whites of his eyes,
And the white cloth about his little middle.

And he sat in the gold circle of sunlight
Kicking with his little feet,
And wriggling his little toes,
And beating, beating
The sunlight all about him,
With his little black stick,
And laughing, laughing

And the circle of gold slipped tip-toeing away,
Tiptoeing away from the little black child
And a little black hand slid into the shadows,
Into black shadows,
And a little black leg,
And a little black foot,
And the half of a little black braided head,
And a little black shoulder,
And a little black beating stick,
And a little black beating hand,
And all that was left,
At the edge of the circle of gold,
Was a little black kicking foot
And little black wriggling toes
Wriggling—wriggling—gone!

A little black child
Sat in the black shadows,
Kicking with his little feet,
And wriggling his little toes,
And beating, beating
The shadows all about him,
With his little black stick,
And laughing, laughing.