You who to the rounded prime

Of a life of toil and stress,

Still have kept the morning-time

Of glad youth in heart and spirit,

So your laugh, as children hear it,

Seems their own, no less,—

Take this book of childish rhyme—

The Book of Joyous Children.

Their first happiness on earth

Here is echoed—their first glee:

Rich, in sooth, the volume's worth—

Not in classic lore, but rich in

The child-sagas of the kitchen;—

Therefore, take from me

To your heart of childish mirth

The Book of Joyous Children.