Imperious wool–booted sage Though your years as men reckon are Three You are wiser than ten times your age, And your faithfullest servants are we. Oh fluffy Philosopher small You can't read our rhymes it is true, For dinner and play is your All And Creation is — you! You cry for the moon and — you get it, You laugh and our spirits have mirth, And the least of your orders we set it O'er everything else upon earth. We know we are older — we may be More wise than yourself O my sweet But today you are Queen of us Baby And we come with our gifts to your feet.
Choose another poem