A child in nature, as a child in years, <br />If on past hours she turn remembering eyes, <br />She but beholds sweet joys or gentle tears, <br />Flower hiding flower in her pure memories. <br /> <br />So flower--like, so lovely do they seem: <br />Too fair to be let die, they fade too fast; <br />Not like that hopeless beauty, which in dream <br />Is ever present, but to say 'tis past. <br /> <br />Then should I come with sorrow at my breast, <br />Profitless sorrow, vainly wished away, <br />Will she give comfort to my heart's unrest, <br />She, whose bright years are as a morn of May? <br /> <br />Though I should sigh, I could not choose but cheer, <br />Knowing Joy is not far, when she is near.<br /><br />Robert Laurence Binyon<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-child-in-nature-as-a-child-in-years/
