Half-Past-Six and I were talking
In a very grown-up way;
We had got so tired with running
That we did not want to play.
"How do babies come, I wonder,"
He said, looking at the sky,
"Does God mix the things together
An' just make it-like a pie?"
I was really not quite certain,
But it sounded very nice;
It was all that we could think of,
Besides a book said "sugar and spice."
Half-Past-Six said--He's so clever--
Cleverer than me, I mean...
"I suppose God makes the black ones
When the saucepan isn't clean."
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Wow, incredible the mind of children...... Its so wonderful how in tune Katherine was with that part of herself, the same part many of us lose in the smoke and scurry of hustle bustle.. Sad, too, how this overly politically correct world of today would frown on such things as something demeaning when nothing could be farther from the truth. Like twain's books being pulled from school shelves because inside he writes of personal relationships with American Indians and slaves - without the slightest bit of disdain - rather celebrating a great, serenely romantic part of our pasts... The same thing Katherine does here, leaving me with visions of her playing with imaginary friends in the late 1800s.... Bravo Miss Katherine. Never erase yourself, never erase that part of where you live...