The poem
Some deem I'm gentle, some I'm kind: It may be so,--I cannot say. I know I have a simple mind And see things in a simple way; And like a child I love to play.
I love to toy with pretty words And syllable them into rhyme; To make them sing like sunny birds In happy droves with silver chime, In dulcet groves in summer time.
I pray, with hair more white than grey, And second childhood coming on, That yet with wonderment I may See life as in its lucent dawn, And be by beauty so beguiled I'll sing as sings a child.