"Betsy Lee" by T.E. Brown
the beauty of the thing when childher plays is
terrible wonderful length the days is.
you jumps, and out in the sun,
you fancy the day will never be done;
you're chasin' the bumbees hummin' so cross
the hot sweet air among the goss,
gath'rin' blue-bells, or lookin' for eggs,
peltin' the ducks with their yalla legs,
a climbin' and nearly breakin' your skulls,
a shoutin' for divilment after the gulls,
a thinkin' of nothin', but down at the tide
out for the happy you feel inside.
the way with kids, you know,
the years do come and the years do go,
when you look back it's all like a puff,
and over and short enough.