CHILDREN, ye have not lived, to you it seems <br />Life is a lovely stalactite of dreams, <br />Or carnival of careless joys that leap <br />About your hearts like billows on the deep <br />In flames of amber and of amethyst. <br /> <br /> <br />Children, ye have not lived, ye but exist <br />Till some resistless hour shall rise and move <br />Your hearts to wake and hunger after love, <br />And thirst with passionate longing for the things <br />That burn your brows with blood-red sufferings. <br /> <br /> <br />Till ye have battled with great grief and fears, <br />And borne the conflict of dream-shattering years, <br />Wounded with fierce desire and worn with strife, <br />Children, ye have not lived: for this is life.<br /><br />Sarojini Naidu<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/life-4/
