To read only children's books

To read only children's books, To cherish only children's thoughts. All grown-up things to disperse far away, And to rise from a deep sorrow.

I am mortally tired of life, I accept nothing of it, But I love my poor earth, Because I’ve seen no other.

I swung myself in a far-off garden On the simple wooden swing, Remembering tall dark fir trees In an obscure delirium.