YOU don't weigh more than thirty pounds,
Your legs are little, plump and fat,
And yet you patter on your rounds
The whole day long within our flat.
Yes, ceaselessly, you come and go,
In search of things you want to see,
You're only two years old, but oh
You walk the strength right out of me.
A dozen times a day or more
You gayly lead me up the stairs,
Then back to try the kitchen door,
Then round about the parlor chairs.
You come and take me by the hand
And splendidly you march away
Until by night I scarce can stand,
While you are fresh and keen for play.
You know not what it is to tire,
You never seem to care for rest;
You seem to have but one desire
And that's to go, 'till you're undressed.
And this tonight I'll say to you
As you are tugging at my knee,
That it is all that I can do
To keep the pace you set for me.
Oh, little chap, with tireless step,
Oh, little laughing chap of two,
I somehow wish I had your 'pep'
And could keep up as well as you!
I wish I had what you possess,
The strength to romp and play and run,
Yet every Sunday, I confess,
I'm tuckered out when night comes on.
Edgar Albert Guest
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