Of Dandelions And Tears
The child cried out in unaffected glee.
The adult smiled impassively,
'Tis common, they are all around, ' said he.
The child saw not the yellow dotted lea.
But deep within the yellow flower's maze,
Saw sunlight dancing there in golden blaze.
The adult, fearing lest mere childish sways
Should overlook a taste of nobler praise,
Hastened to point out a rose.
The child saw tears behind the lonely eyes.
The adult's shield intensifies,
''Tis not ours to care for every wretch that cries.'
The childish heart is grieved as he replies,
'Why is the world so filled with tears and woe?
Why are so many lonely heads bent low? '
The adult, sure there is no need to know,
Though he himself had asked it long ago,
Indifferently replied, 'Who knows? '
The child, no longer heeding others need,
Has served apprenticeship to greed.
The adult also knows the passing speed
Of years that grasp the hand and take the lead.
The child no longer cares for those who cry-
Treads down the simple flower and walks on by.
Alone the adult sits and wonders why,
Knowing somewhere a truth must justify
The dandelion and the rose.