The Child World

The child world is a wondrous world, For there the flags of hate are furled, And there the imps of wickedness Cause neither sorrow nor distress. And there is never strife for gold, There petty gossip's never told, There all is joy and wondrous mirth, The child earth is a glorious earth. The land of childhood is aglow With smiles, and there pink roses grow Upon the cheeks of boys and girls; The golden rod is yellow curls, And eyes of brown and eyes of blue Are daisies and the violets, too; And warm and true is every hand That clings to yours in Childhood Land. Who owns a spot on childhood's globe Envies no king his ermine robe; Envies no sage his manners wise,— His world is rich with glad surprise, The quaintest of all speech he hears, The truest smiles, the sweetest tears Are his possessions every day However troubled be his way. Who knows the joys of Childhood Land, The pressure of a tiny hand, The joy that's in a babe's caress, The soft embrace of happiness, The sweet good-nights, the shouts of glee That greet the morning lustily, Has riches, those who childless live To know, would all their fortunes give.