To My Little Son Preston

You, who are four years old; You, with the eyes of blue; You with the age of gold Young in the heart of you, Boy with the eyes of blue: You, with the face so fair, Innocent-uttered words, All the glad sunlight there, Music of all the birds, Boy, in your face and words: Take you my sheaf of rhymes, Sung for your childish ear; Rhymes you have loved at times Begged for, and sat to hear, Lending a loving ear. Since you have listened, sweet, They to some worth attained; Since in your heart's young beat They for a while remained, They to some worth attained.