'T is time for a story, as one may know
From Robbity-bobbity's evening glow,
His rounder eyes and his open mouth,
As he begs, " Now, Bonpapa, " Once on a time." "
So off goes our ship for the golden South,
For parrots and fruits of a tropic clime,
For wrecks and treasure and tattooed men.
And at each adventure he cries, " And then? "

For a breathless tale you must tell to him,
Robbity-bobbity six and slim.
And if for a second you happen to pause
For a missing word or some other cause,
Or, hushing your voice to a whisper of awe,
At a thrilling moment venture to stop:
The hunter in reach of the grizzly's claw,
Or Jack at the beanstalk's very top,
Or the knight at the mouth of the dragon's den.
He will eagerly urge you on — " And then? "

When I tell how the night-wind gave alarm
And scared the thief of the Golden Arm;
Or how Brer Rabbit his wit would match
With Brer Fox in the briar patch;
Or how the monkeys got over the stream,
Or the crabs gave a dance (they were so delighted
That Ma had escaped through the crab-net seam) —
When the Catfish came that was n't invited —
He will cock his head like a Jenny Wren
And shake his curls, and plead, " And then? "

Oh, Robbity-bobbity looks so wise
From the deep, dark pools of his sunlit eyes
As he asks the wherefore of everything;
Why grass is green? " " Why sparrows sing? "
Why do the squirrels climb the tree? "
Why does the food make little boys strong? "
What was there there before the sea? "
But this is his puzzle the whole day long:
What 's after the counting? You count again
Millions and millions more? And then? "

He 's a philosopher, Robbity-b:
His fancy goes farther than sages see:
A sequel to every story's end:
A journey beyond the road's last bend.
Let bookmen chatter and try to prove
There is n't a future life or place:
Their logical ignorance never could move
The faith from this boy's transfigured face.
Tell him that Death is the last we ken:
He would challenge their doubt with his wise " And then? "