Let him alone, and when he is one year older We will send him away to school. This year he is twelve. His eyes are colder Than stars in a rainy pool. Cold and clear. He bends his graceful head Not to our sadness, nor to any other. Perhaps, we think, he would have loved his mother; But his mother is dead. His round cheek is like a sun-sweetened apple, And his brown throat is bare. Is there any sorrow with which he must grapple That we would not die to share? He will not help us. He puts his thoughts behind him, And not of these will he speak. He is like the waters out of Nameless Creek, Dark and still. There you may seek and find him. There he dives like the gull, with the mill-sluice races; His curving arm, dappled by shade and sun, Rises and falls. But he comes not back for our praises When the race is done. A child is harder to win than any lover. Let him alone -- there is nothing more to say. Lovely, elusive -- when the year is over We will send him away. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CHAMBER MUSIC: 15 by JAMES JOYCE CHAMBER MUSIC: 22 by JAMES JOYCE PORTRAIT OF ONE DEAD by CONRAD AIKEN OUR LORD AND OUR LADY by HILAIRE BELLOC FAITH by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON SONNET TO THOSE WHO SEE BUT DARKLY by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |