XXI

Not noisily, but solemnly and pale,

In a meditative ecstasy you entered life:

As performing some strange rite, to which you alone held the clue.

Child, life did not give rude strength to you;

From the beginning, you would seem to have thrown away,

As something cold and cumbersome, that armour men use against death.

You would perhaps look on him face to face, and so learn the secret

Whether that face wears oftenest a smile or no?

Strange, old, and silent being, there is something

Infinitely vast in your intense tininess:

I think you could point out, with a smile, some curious star

Far off in the heavens, which no man has seen before.