The baby new to earth and sky, <br /> What time his tender palm is prest <br /> Against the circle of the breast, <br /> Has never thought that "this is I": <br /> But as he grows he gathers much, <br /> And learns the use of "I," and "me," <br /> And finds "I am not what I see, <br /> And other than the things I touch." <br /> So rounds he to a separate mind <br /> From whence clear memory may begin, <br /> As thro' the frame that binds him in <br /> His isolation grows defined. <br /> <br /> This use may lie in blood and breath <br /> Which else were fruitless of their due, <br /> Had man to learn himself anew <br /> Beyond the second birth of Death.<br /><br />Alfred Lord Tennyson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-memoriam-a-h-h-45-the-baby-new-to-earth-and-s/
