How should I, still a child, face timelessness? For me, the little playthings of an hour; My house built of the vari-colored blocks Of night and day; each strangely-portioned task Clipped to the measure of my pigmy strength By the restraining, patient hand of sleep; Each small excursion of uncertain feet Its own reward; and closed, to soothe the heart, With the most comforting of all our words, "Finished; it is finished!" This my song Along the way, while every little end Leaves me the space for fresh beginning still. How should my childish arms stretch out the span That makes eternity? Give me the life Of little ends and small beginnings, till I have grown wiser, braver eyes to look On timelessness. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DEDICATION IN THESE DAY by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE AUDACIOUS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: J. MILTON MILES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS HOMAGE TO SEXTUS PROPERTIUS: 9 by EZRA POUND BUCOLIC COMEDY: SPINNING SONG by EDITH SITWELL GOOD-BYE DOROTHY GAYLE: ST. CLOUD, MINNESOTA by KAREN SWENSON |