by Edmund Vance Cooke
He is so little to be so bold!
Why, he came to the house (so I've been told)
And his very first call
Sufficed to install
The waif on our premises, once for all.
Somehow or other the rogue got in
And claims to be of our kith and kin!
He is so little to be so loved!
He came unbooted, ungarbed, ungloved,
Naked and shameless,
Beggared and blameless,
And, for all he could tell us, even nameless!
Yet every one in the house bows down
As if the mendicant wore a crown.
He is so little to be so loud!
O, I own that I should be wondrous proud
If I had a tongue,
All swiveled and swung,
With a double-back-action, twin-screw lung
Which brought me victual and keep and care,
Whenever, I shook the surrounding air.
He is so little to be so sweet!
You can see that he wouldn't count much as me
Seven pounds or eight
Isn't very much weight
To be sold on the hoof, yet I dare state
Some extravagant buyer might be found
To offer as much as a dime the pound.
He is so little to be so large!
Why, a train of cars or a whale-back barge
Couldn't carry the freight
Of the monstrous weight
Of all of his qualities, good and great.
And though one view is as good as another,
Don't take my word for it. Ask his mother!
Last updated September 22, 2022