You may know him as Le Sieg or Rosetta Stone.
His imaginative landscapes look often moss grown.
He was born in New England in 1904.
A writer, cartoonist and animator.
The child of a brewer from German descent.
When schooling time started to Dartmouth he went.
His passion for writing within him did burn,
as chief editor of the Jack-O-Lantern.
A fraternity prank caused the Dean to be-fume,
eventually creating his unique nom de plume.
From Dartmouth to Lincoln in Oxford he went.
Met Helen and married, no degree by consent.
His humor in writing and drawing had flair,
submitting to LIFE and Vanity Fair.
The July ’27 Saturday Evening Post,
first Published his name that we know the most.
As the writer of rhymes he was so amply fit,
coining the catchphrase “Quick, Henry, the Flit!”
During the depression when folks were in toil,
he found work with GE, NBC, Standard Oil.
When Uncle Sam’s World War II bugle did blast,
editorial art and enlistment came fast.
Training and reporting through film did permit,
the first ever Army Motion Picture Unit.
Post war to the west coast his family did journey.
Writing children’s books became his repartee.
He offered his insights if he ran the zoo.
Telling us of dear Horton and how he heard a who.
At dinner we dined on green eggs and ham.
Served up by an excitable Sam, I am.
When challenged to make children's books less of a bore,
a hat wearing feline he could not ignore.
He then gave us one fish, a red fish a blue,
then told us that Mr. Brown could moo too.
His writing for children he just could not stop,
he gave us the Lorax and Hop on Pop.
It didn’t end there, he had many tricks,
of children’s books he did write forty six.
When production assistance was needed in a pinch,
he called Jones and Karloff who screenplayed the Grinch.
On his family tree he sprouted no stem,
instead he responded, “I’ll entertain ‘em”.
His creative expression was not limited to words
he drew sneetches and turtles and marvelous birds!
His best selling books have sold in the millions
no doubt entertaining a hundred quadzillions.
He passed from this world at aged 87,
quite certainly landing in bibliophile heaven.
Celebrating his birthday seems quite bittersweet.
And to think that he started near Mulberry Street.
Until next we meet for literary looks
enjoy what you read by tripping on books!
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