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Robert Laurence Binyon - The Eyes Of Youth
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Time buys no wisdom like the eyes of youth,
 Though youth itself be blinded with delight,
 As a buoyant swimmer by the bursting spray
 Of the resplendent surge, and know not yet
 The marvel of its own heart`s vision, blurred
 By lovely follies dancing in the sun.
 I heard a skylark scaling the spring air
 As slow I climbed the misty, rough hill--side.
 He poured the wordless wonder of his joy
 Into the empty sky: was never word
 Of human language held a joy so pure;
 But it was I who knew it! Though my feet
 Stayed on the plodded earth and in the mist,
 Yet I could breathe, float, mount and sing with him,
 The unweariable singer; I could bathe
 In the beyond of blue, and know the round
 Of sea beneath me, and the sun above.
 He gave of what he knew not, soaring throat!
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