Happiness Poem by Alan Alexander Milne

awful because she didn't know what she meant by that and where the water goes it was good for the hippopotamus to come to save her

For innocent minds, every simple opportunity or gain is matter of joy. That is the pleasure of contented soul. Thanks for sharing

I think of this poem when I remember my daughter, age 3, refusing to remove her new Mary Jane shoes when she went to bed, the expression on my grandson's face, age 4, when he put on his new cowboy vest. I think of this poem often when something small - an unexpected kindness, a generous word - makes me happy.