Note
COME READ ME MY RIDDLE, EACH GOOD LITTLE MAN;
IF YOU CANNOT READ IT, NO GROWN-UP FOLK CAN.
“I heard a thousand blended notes,While in a grove I sate reclined;In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughtsBeing sad thoughts to the mind.
“To her fair works did Nature linkThe human soul that through me ran;And much it grieved my heart to think,What man has made of man.”
WORDSWORTH.