Chance twigs and odd-shaped stones and broken toys And rumpled old men dozing in the park And dandelions, were meant for little boys. For them, bugs were allowed on Noah's ark. They are enchanted with the train you draw However crooked you may think it looks And welcome, as the best they ever saw The heavy cakes of unskilled mother cooks. They value pencils, empty cartons, string And most of all, they love the dirt and sand God's gift and free to them, like everything Meant for the miracle of the shaping hand. They never argue whether men are brothers: Strays clearly are as nice to pat as others.