Poem by Gilbert Keith Chesterton

* * *

This is the sort of book we like
(For you and I are very small),
With pictures stuck in anyhow,
And hardly any words at all.
. . .
You will not understand a word
Of all the words, including mine;
Never you trouble; you can see,
And all directness is divine—
Stand up and keep your childishness:
Read all the pedants' screeds and strictures;
But don't believe in anything
That can't be told in coloured pictures. 

1. Music
2. The House of Christmas
3. The Mortal Answers
4. The Strange Music
5. Bay Combe

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