On July 4, weather permitting, four children--one baby, a 1-year-old, a toddler and a grown-up 4-year-old--will grace my back yard with their parents, their parents' parents, aunts and uncles and cousins galore. Anticipating that, here is a summer poem by Edgar A. Guest pulled from Collected Verse of Edgar A. Guest, published by The Reilly & Lee Co. of Chicago in 1934.
This poem is for the children. All children.
THE SUMMER CHILDREN
I like 'em in the winter when their cheeks are slightly pale,
I like 'em in the spring time when the March winds blow a gale;
But when summer suns have tanned 'em and they're racing to and fro,
I somehow think the children make the finest sort of show.
When they're brown as little berries and they're bare of foot and head,
And they're on the go each minute where the velvet lawns are spread,
Then their health is at its finest and they never stop to rest,
Oh, it's then I think the children look and are their very best.
We've got to know the winter and we've got to know the spring,
But for children, could I do it, unto summer I would cling;
For I'm happiest when I see 'em, as a wild and merry band
Of healthy, lusty youngsters that the summer sun has tanned.