Bitter sweet were you born,
Early in the sunny morn,
From an oven burning warm;
Salty to the taste, yet sweet,
Cookie! How good you are to eat!
Why then tremble as my treat?
Never didst thou have a friend
As me thy passing cares to tend--
Until does come your fitting end.
No! I mock you not!
Simple creature oven-wrought,
Destined for palate, not the pot.
Friend of all humanity,
Trust and you will be set free,
From your crumbling mortality.
Don’t you see that I care?
For what purpose do we share?
This passing life that is our fare?
I would then have you know,
‘Tis goodness from which you flow,
And in goodness now will you grow.
Tremble not when come you near
Teeth and tongue, oh savored dear!
Mm! Others too have followed here.
Carefully I sift through crumbs,
licking fingers and even thumbs,
speechless—cookies now are gone.
Yet with wonder I savor this prize,
Smile I, with Cookie sighs--
Grown, too, now, in wonders-wise.
If cookies be our treat below,
What goodness on us does God bestow?
Happiness, eternally, shall we know?
How could it be otherwise than so?