O little one, new born,
I would I were like thee;
Then were this whole world’s scorn
And praise alike to me.
Then would I look on life
As do thine azure eyes,
And know how vain its strife,
How paltry what we prize.
Tradition cannot claim
Dominion over thee,
Nor fear the pinions maim
Of thy young soul and free.
All things to thee are new.
Thy mind runs in no groove.
Thou dost both false and true
Question alike, and prove.
Thou art no shadowy soul,
But the incarnate “I”,
And thou wilt reach thy goal,
Or failing, thou wouldst die.
Indomitable will
That makes us all obey,—
If I were childlike still,
I were more man to-day.