A boy is a wonderfully curious thing,
Of all creation he deems himself King,
Yet give him for pastime a top and a string
And he is instantly spinning;
When fishes are ripe he tries them with hook,
He thinks more of them than of a new book,
And steals enough time to after them look,
Not conscious that he is sinning.

The great possibilities within his scope
Prompts to exertion, inspires him with hope,
Till with the world he is ready to cope
For the greatest laurels of honor;
Glory and fame are attractive stars
He may seek in strife, under bloody Mars,
Till Wisdom revolts at the ugly scars
Ambition has placed upon her.

Oh, active, mercurial, wonderful boy,
The world is a top and you spin it with joy,
Regardless of all the wiles you employ
To gain the pleasure of seeing;
No tree is so tall, but you reach its top limb,
No water so deep, but in it you swim,
No ice is so smooth, but o'er it you skim
Like a phantom, a wonderful being.