I cannot reach it; and my striving eye Dazzles at it, as at eternity. Were now that Chronicle alive, Those white designs which children drive, And the thoughts of each harmless hour, With their content too in my pow'r, Quickly would I make my path even, And by mere playing go to Heaven. Why should men love A Wolf, more than a Lamb or Dove? Or choose hell-fire and brimstone streams Before bright stars, and God's own beams? Who kisseth thorns, will hurt his face, But flowers do both refresh and grace, And sweetly living (@3fie on men!@1) Are when dead, medicinal then. If seeing much should make staid eyes, And long experience should make wise; Since all that age doth teach, is ill, Why should I not love child-hood still? Why if I see a rock or shelf, Shall I from thence cast down myself, Or by complying with the world, From the same precipice be hurled? Those observations are but foul Which make me wise to lose my soul. And yet the @3practice@1 worldlings call Business and weighty action all, Checking the poor child for his play, But gravely cast themselves away. Dear, harmless age! the short, swift span, Where weeping virtue parts with man; Where love without lust dwells, and bends What way we please, without self-ends. An age of mysteries! which he Must live twice, that would God's face see; Which @3angels@1 guard, and with it play, Angels! which foul men drive away. How do I study now, and scan Thee, more than e'er I studied man, And only see through a long night Thy edges, and thy bordering light! O for thy Centre and mid-day! For sure that is the @3narrow way@1. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PSALM 121 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE GLOVE AND THE LIONS by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT RAILROAD RHYME by JOHN GODFREY SAXE THE SECOND MOTHERHOOD by ST. CLAIR ADAMS SEVEN SAD SONNETS: 1. THE HAPPENING by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS THE FROGS: THE FATAL OIL-FLASK by ARISTOPHANES |