Nature, the old nurse, took 



The child upon her knee. 

 Saying: "Here is a story-book 



Thy Father has written for thee." 



"Come, wander zcith me," she said, 



"Into regions yet untrod. 

 And read what is yet unread 



In the manuscripts of God." 



And he wandered away and away 



With Nature, the dear old nurse. 

 Who sang to him night and day 



The rhymes of the universe. 



And whenever the way seemed long. 



Or his heart began to fail. 

 She would sing him a more wonderful song. 



Or tell him a more marvelous tale. 



— Henry W. Longfellow. 



