The Child and the Man

T. S. DEVARAJAN

Behold the child that plays on the lawn,

Merrily and swiftly does he gambol like a fawn.

Like a Lark he comes on the sunlit morn,

Adding glory to the beauteous dawn.

The flower-beds and the meadows hail him,

The warbling birds above greet him,

The running brooks below elude him,

The ringing bells afar delight him.

Cares or worries he has none,

Joys and sorrows alike to him are one,

Success or failure to him is a fun.

And little does he aspire for things beyond his ken.

And now the rolling years have made him a man;

The sweet past with him is but a dream that has gone,

Care sits on his face and mirth moves away from his speech

As in life’s laboured journey his goal he strives to reach.

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