I'm up against it day by day, <br />My ignorance is distressing; <br />The things I don't know on the way <br />I'm busily confessing. <br />Time was I used to think I knew <br />Some useful bits of knowledge <br />And could be sure of one or two <br />Real facts I'd gleaned in college. <br />But I'm unfitted for the task <br />Of answering things my boy can ask. <br /> <br />Now, who can answer queries queer <br />That four-year-olds can think up? <br />And tell in simple phrase and clear <br />Why fishes do not drink up <br />The water in the streams and lakes, <br />Or where the wind is going, <br />And tell exactly how God makes <br />The roses that are growing? <br />I'm sure I cannot satisfy <br />Each little when, and how, and why. <br /> <br />Had I the wisdom of a sage <br />Possessed of all the learning <br />That can be gleaned from printed page <br />From bookworm's closest turning, <br />That eager knowledge-seeking lad <br />That questions me so gayly <br />Could still go round and boast he had <br />With queries floored me daily. <br />He'll stick, I'll bet, in less than five <br />Brief minutes any man alive.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/stuck-97/
