The life of a little child is new To the parent, but old to the earth; From sprouting cells and blood it grew Toward the orifice of birth. It is one of a caravan of pain, And a long flotilla of fear; But the mouth will open and give again, The blood and the cells reappear. The stretched and staggering line will give Till the sun grows cold and small; For man is gray with the lust to live, And leashed to the rhythmic call. Roll on, roll on, like the earth and moon, To the banded girth of the grave; Till the cell shall break and the blood shall swoon, And the cyclical heart shall cave; Then and then only shall Time begin, And the promised dawn arise; For each child is a haven a man may win, And a backward turn of his eyes. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE TRASH MEN by CHARLES BUKOWSKI CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING AS VISION by HAYDEN CARRUTH DELUSION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON JOY (2) by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON CHAMBER MUSIC: 35 by JAMES JOYCE SURFACES AND MASKS; 2 by CLARENCE MAJOR SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: WILLIAM AND EMILY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS |