Alan Alexander Milne

. It is the best way to write poetry, letting things come.”

As soon as he got home, he went to the larder; and he stood on a chair, and took down a very large jar of honey from the top shelf. It had HUNNY written on it, but, just to make sure, he took off the paper cover and looked at it, and it looked just like honey. ‘But you never can tell,’ said Pooh. ‘I remember my uncle saying once that he had seen cheese just this colour.’ So he put his tongue in, and took a large lick. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘it is. No doubt about that. And honey, I should say, right down to the bottom of the jar. Unless, of course,’ he said, ‘somebody put cheese in at the bottom just for a joke. Perhaps I had better go a little further … just in case … in case Heffalumps don’t like cheese … same as me … Ah!’ And he gave a deep sigh. ‘I was right. It is honey, right the way down.’

The Sun was still in bed, but there was a lightness in the sky over the Hundred Acre Wood which seemed to show that it was waking up and would soon be kicking off the clothes. In the half-light the Pine Trees looked cold and lonely, and the Very Deep Pit seemed deeper than it was, and Pooh’s jar of honey at the bottom was something mysterious, a shape and no more. But as he got nearer to it his nose told him that it was indeed honey, and his tongue came out and began to polish up his mouth, ready for it.

‘Bother!’ said Pooh, as he got his nose inside the jar. ‘A Heffalump has been eating it!’ And then he thought a little and said, ‘Oh, no, I did. I forgot.’

Indeed, he had eaten most of it. But there was a little left at the very bottom of the jar, and he pushed his head right in, and began to lick. …