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? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...I COULD TAKE by HAYDEN CARRUTH A FLORIDA GHOST by SIDNEY LANIER RAHEL TO VARNHAGEN by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON OF ANY OLD MAN by ISAAC ROSENBERG PRELUDE TO A FAIRY TALE by EDITH SITWELL HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 2. CAMBODIA by KAREN SWENSON |