by Robert William Service
When I go on my morning walk,
because I'm mild, if I be in the mood to talk
I choose a child.
I'd rather prattle with a lass of tender age
than converse in the high-brow class
with college sage.
I love the touch of silken hand that softly clings;
In old of age
I understand life's little things.
I love the lisp of tiny tongue and trusting eyes;
These are the joys that keep me young as daylight dies.
For as to second childhood
I draw gently near,
with happy heart I see the why
children are dear.
So wise Professor, go your way, - I am beguiled
to wistful loving by the
gay laugh of a child.