See the Children’s gay Librarian! Oh, what boisterous joys are hers
As she sits upon her whirl-stool, throned amid her worshippers,
Guiding youngsters seeking wisdom through Thought’s misty morning light;
Separating Tom and Billy as they clinch in deadly fight;
Giving lavatory treatment to the little hand that smears
With the soil of crusted strata laid by immemorial years;
Teaching critical acumen to the youngsters munching candy,
To whom books are all two classes — they are either “bum” or “dandy”;
Dealing out to Ruths and Susies, or to Toms and Dicks and Harries,
Books on Indians or Elsie, great big bears, or little fairies.
For the Children’s gay Librarian passes out with equal pains
Books on Indians or Elsie, satisfying hungering brains;
Dealing Indians or Elsie, each according to his need,
Satisfying long, long longings for an intellectual feed.