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       # 2020-08-11 - Who But A Child by Eleanor Alletta Chaffee
       
 (IMG) Child eyes
       
       Who but a child would wander into the night
       Against the sensible advice of those much older,
       Whose silent shadows cut the moon's thin light
       And only maples lean to touch the shoulder?
       What do they hope to find, what fever stirs
       Their blood and guides their feet to walk alone?
       They will return, the sweater stuck with burrs
       And in the hand a useless, shapeless stone,
       But something in their face, secret, withdrawn
       Will go with them upstairs, and to their sleep.
       They are as furtive now as a young wild fawn:
       Their eyes are darker now, and large and deep.
       Who but a child can find such subtle magic
       In the world the elders find so grave, so tragic?
       
       tags: poem
       
       # Tags
       
 (DIR) poem