My neat and pretty book, when I thy small lines see <br />They seem for any use to be unfit for me. <br />My writing, all misshaped, uneven as my mind, <br />Within this narrow space can hardly be confined. <br />Yet I will strive to make my hand less awkward look; <br />I would not willingly disgrace thee, my neat book. <br />The finest pens I'll use, and wondrous pains I'll take, <br />And I these perfect lines my monitors will make. <br />And every day I will set down in order due <br />How that day wasted is; and should there be a few <br />At the year's end that show more goodly to the sight, <br />If haply here I find some days not wasted quite, <br />If a small portion of them I have passed aright, <br />Then shall I think the year not wholly was misspent, <br />And that my Diary has been by some good angel sent.<br /><br />Charles Lamb<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/written-in-the-first-leaf-of-a-child-s-memorandum-book/
