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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. Gilbert Keith Chesterton Gilbert Keith Chesterton's other poems:
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