Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE CHILD, by MURRAY KETCHAM KIRK



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THE CHILD, by            
First Line: Tiny stranger from the world of dreams
Last Line: With home despoiled as you unfold?
Subject(s): Children; Childhood


Tiny stranger from the world of dreams,
How soon you learn to laugh and run,
Chasing all the golden butterflies
That flutter in the luring skies;
Crying for the big, white moon that gleams
Above your cot when day is done.

Little Child, what realms unfathomed wait,
Upon your winged step and flight?
What harmonies and glorious song,
Mountain-peaks of Thought, and all the long
Reach of silent splendor that is night
Among the stars at Heaven's gate?

Precious more than sacred Ophir's gold,
Or temples filled with gems and silk;
Little Child among the butterflies,
With hands outstretched unto the skies,
Who shall name that mighty nation's guilt,
With Home despoiled as You unfold?





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