Friday, September 7, 2007
Children
Smell spice withered and frail
In a cottage along a creek
Tea leaves drown and oil lamps
Blaze as Heaven’s fiery peak
Young ones hear old tales
Of the Arabian and Greek
Soft and silly wonder
Not dancers, smooth and sleek
Only playful souls that shout with joy
Only the faithful, firm, and meek
When shall we learn their lesson?
When is the wisdom gained?
To place a seal of solid doubt
Whenever we feel stained
Or dash the thoughts of beauty
Convinced this life is pained
To look on children, small and glad
With our pools of judgment drained
Then, only then will we be embraced
And our shackles be unchained
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