Classic Poem

Si je commence une chanson
Je prends toujours le même ton.

The child knows nothing of similitude.
No thought of virtue enters in his head.
He cares not whether he go frocked or nude.
He knows not if he be alive or dead.

For merest trifles he will break his heart.
He loves the shallow rather than the deep
That which he holds is sacred and apart.
In one same moment he can laugh and weep.

He only sees what serves his present prank
He does not reckon day nor time nor place,
Nor parents, friends, nor value, fashion, rank;
Even that he knows not God is no disgrace.

Feeble and small, he lives without the sense
Of haunting shame; to honour he is blind;
And all his wisdom is his innocence.
His smallest gesture shows his inmost mind.

Over and above he looks for a caress;
And, if the smile he covets be withheld,
His little tears, his miniature distress,
The hardest heart to instant pity melt.