Classic Poem

We all are little infants
As far as I can see.
Romping and sprawling all about
One painted Nursery.

We all of us have small ideas
Of what is wrong and right
And sometimes we dispute our views
—and sometimes even fight.

Some tie gold paper round our heads
And play at being kings
And others sit against the wall
And think of serious things.

We are not always very good
We strut and shriek a lot.
We have our games they all must have
And toys that they must not.

But still we are not very bad,
We own a generous spark.