Greybeards at Play/Envoy

Envoy
Clear was the night: the moon was young:
 * The larkspurs in the plots

Mingled their orange with the gold
 * Of the forget-me-nots.

The poppies seemed a silver mist:
 * So darkly fell the gloom.

You scarce had guessed yon crimson streaks
 * Were buttercups in bloom.

But one thing moved: a little child
 * Crashed through the flower and fern:

And all my soul rose up to greet
 * The sage of whom I learn.

I looked into his awful eyes:
 * I waited his decree:

I made ingenious attempts
 * To sit upon his knee.

The babe upraised his wondering eyes,
 * And timidly he said,

"A trend towards experiment
 * In modern minds is bred.

"I feel the will to roam, to learn
 * By test, experience, _nous_,

That fire is hot and ocean deep,
 * And wolves carnivorous.

"My brain demands complexity."
 * The lisping cherub cried.

I looked at him, and only said,
 * "Go on. The world is wide."

A tear rolled down his pinafore,
 * "Yet from my life must pass

The simple love of sun and moon,
 * The old games in the grass;

"Now that my back is to my home
 * Could these again be found?"

I looked on him, and only said,
 * "Go on. The world is round."