A CHILD's a plaything for an hour; Its pretty tricks we try For that or for a longer space; Then tire, and lay it by. But I knew one, that to itself All seasons could control; That would have mocked the sense of pain Out of a grieved soul. Thou straggler into loving arms, Young climber up of knees, When I forget thy thousand ways, Then life and all shall cease. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WENDELL PHILLIPS by AMOS BRONSON ALCOTT KATIE LEE AND WILLIE GREY by JOSIE R. HUNT COMPOSED AT NEIDPATH CASTLE, 1803 by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A SONNET. ON THE PICTURE OF CAVALIER GUARINI PAINTED BY BORGIANNI by PHILIP AYRES SEASONS AND TIMES by WILLIAM BARNES QUATORZAINS: 1. TO PERFUME by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PSALM 11. IN DOMINO CONFIDO by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE |