Full of child-thoughts, and glad at simple things,— Not versed in deep things;—well content to be In green woods or green meadows, or to see The painted butterfly spread sportive wings: Happy in all the joy the blue sky brings, And full of an unfathomed purity: Not clever, great, or learned,—full of glee Silver and soft, that round the hearer clings:— Such is the child: a very simple flower,— Not tall nor grand nor passion-flushed nor red; Full ne'ertheless of her own quiet power, And blossoming queenlike on her own calm bower, And flinging from her fair soft golden head Light that transfigures many a mortal hour. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NEIGHBORS by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON HUFFMAN'S PHOTOGRAPH OF THE GRAVES OF THE UNKNOWN AT LITTLE BIGHORN by KAREN SWENSON WITH WHOM IS NO VARIABLENESS, NEITHER SHADOW OF TURNING' by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH THE SNOW-STORM by RALPH WALDO EMERSON A CONTEMPLATION UPON FLOWERS by HENRY KING (1592-1669) TO THINK OF TIME by WALT WHITMAN |