Classic Poem

Playing and shouting all the morning hours,
Crying, perhaps, with pain or childish grief,
Wayward as humming-birds among the flowers,
Busy as builders of the coral reef;

So prattles on my rosy little lad.
Can I forgive him that he drives away
Thought from the subject, pencil from the pad?
Ah, little man, soon comes the sleep, I say.

Sudden I note that all around is still,
Unvexed my ear by laughter wild and sweet,
Unhindered now my pen may have its will—
There lies my darling, close about my feet.

Thus, while forgetting what I meant to write,
Mayhap I learn a lesson far more deep:
Father of all! When comes for us the night,
May we so trustfully lie down to sleep!