Teddy Book … index Foreword O gentle reader, mildly look on Edward Boswell Bear

Who toiled upon this little book with diligence and care

Great were his hopes, his courage high, who knew himself inspired

Though as an epic hero I leave much to be desired:

Reader, I trust you too are blest with such a constant friend.

His prejudice must stand confessed: let not his praise offend:

He tells how verse he learned to write, and practised every day,

And wrote his extracts up at night until we went away:

And how he smuggled them inside the pocket of my sack

And how he hoped for time to hide before I could unpack:

He tells of my remorseless raid while he sat by in dread,

And how, the dire discovery made, I smiled when first I read

This work ambitiously compiled, extravagantly planned

(And where I smiled, and why I smiled, perhaps you’ll understand

And you may smile, to think his praise far more than my desert,

Yet hide your smiling from his gaze, or Teddy might be hurt.)

Judge kindly now of what he meant: respect his love and care:

I step aside, and here present my friend, E. Boswell Bear.