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Robert Laurence Binyon - "A child in nature, as a child in years"
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A child in nature, as a child in years,
 If on past hours she turn remembering eyes,
 She but beholds sweet joys or gentle tears,
 Flower hiding flower in her pure memories.

 So flower--like, so lovely do they seem:
 Too fair to be let die, they fade too fast;
 Not like that hopeless beauty, which in dream
 Is ever present, but to say `tis past.

 Then should I come with sorrow at my breast,
 Profitless sorrow, vainly wished away,
 Will she give comfort to my heart`s unrest,
 She, whose bright years are as a morn of May?

 Though I should sigh, I could not choose but cheer,
 Knowing Joy is not far, when she is near.
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