Childhood

Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!

First there’s the children’s house of make believe, Some shattered dishes underneath a pine, The playthings in the playhouse of the children. Weep for what little things could make them glad.

Behold the child, by Nature’s kindly law

I was the giant great and still

We don’t stop playing because we grow old; we grow old because we stop playing.

An honest man is always a child.

The horizon’s edge, the flying sea-crow, the fragrance of salt marsh and shore mud, These became part of that child who went forth every day, and who now goes, and will always go forth every day.

And I made a rural pen, And I stain’d the water clear, And I wrote my happy songs Every child may joy to hear.

Child of the pure, unclouded brow And dreaming eyes of wonder! Though time be fleet and I and thou Are half a life asunder, Thy loving smile will surely hail The love-gift of a fairy tale.

Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a moocow coming down along the road and this moocow that was down along the road met a nicens little boy named baby tuckoo.

GOLF IS A GAME IN WHICH YOU CAN CLAIM THE PRIVILEGES OF AGE AND RETAIN THE PLAYTHINGS OF CHILDHOOD.

Warmth is the vital element for the growing plant and for the soul of the child.

When that I was and a little tiny boy, With hey, ho, the wind and the rain; A foolish thing was but a toy, For the rain it raineth every day. 40

There was a little girl Who had a little curl Right in the middle of her forehead; And when she was good She was very, very good, But when she was bad she was horrid.

I have had playmates, I have had companions, In my days of childhood, in my joyful school days— All, all are gone, the old familiar faces.

A child should always say what’s true And speak when he is spoken to, And behave mannerly at table; At least as far as he is able.

What do we ever get nowadays from reading to equal the excitement and the revelation in those first fourteen years?

Then not only an old man, but also a drunkard, becomes a second time a child.

George Washington, as a boy, was ignorant of the commonest accomplishments of youth. He could not even lie.

Her wit was more than man, her innocence a child.

As if his whole vocation Were endless imitation.

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting: The soul that rises with us, our life’s star, But trailing clouds of glory do we come Heaven lies about us in our infancy! Shades of the prison-house begin to close

A schoolboy’s tale, the wonder of an hour!

And honored among wagons I was prince of the apple towns.