Sweet little myth of the nursery story-- br Earliest love of mine infantile breast, br Be something tangible, bloom in thy glory br Into existence, as thou art addressed! br Hasten! appear to me, guileless and good-- br Thou are so dear to me, Red Riding-Hood! br br Azure-blue eyes, in a marvel of wonder, br Over the dawn of a blush breaking out; br Sensitive nose, with a little smile under br Trying to hide in a blossoming pout-- br Couldn't be serious, try as you would, br Little mysterious Red Riding-Hood! br br Hah! little girl, it is desolate, lonely, br Out in this gloomy old forest of Life!-- br Here are not pansies and buttercups only-- br Brambles and briers as keen as a knife; br And a Heart, ravenous, trails in the wood br For the meal have he must,--Red Riding-Hood!br br James Whitcomb Rileybr br