THE PASSIONS OF A CHILD

The passions of a child attend his dreams.

He lives, loves, hopes, remembers, is forlorn

For legendary creatures, whom he deems

Not too unreal — until one golden morn

The gracious, all-awaking sun shines in

Upon his tranquil pillow, and his eyes

Are touched, and opened greatly, and begin

To drink reality with rich surprise.

I loved the impetuous souls of ancient story —

Heroic characters, kings, queens, whose wills

Like empires rose, achieved, and fell, in glory.

I was a child, until the radiant dawn,

Thy beauty, woke me — O thy spirit fills

The stature of those heroes, they are gone!