CCXXVI and CCXXVII

I never knew you when you were just ten

I would have been but three years old just then.

But if we had, contemporaries, been,

just think of all that we could do again.

We’d rise at two or three, when parents slept,

and feast on fridgery and proudly prowl.

Our mother would discover that we’d crept

that night, but it would be quite worth her scowl.

What silly things on which to sit and stew!

Bold ventures with my brother in the night.

But I know that you’re often sleepless, too.

How many jaunts we’d have beyond daylight.

So I sit, sleepless, dreaming of a day

where we’d more time as youth to have our way.

~~~

And when you do begin to feel some joy,

sit back within that moment, and ride on;

and never stop, for thinking will destroy

whatever happiness you might have won.

‘twas said to me, you feel joy only once,

and then it’s gone and never comes again.

Poor man who thought this thing, and thereby stunts

the joy that might have followed him since then.

It’s we who kill off joy. Our stifled minds

that want to organize the things we feel.

But feelings will continue of all kinds

if we bear not sad scrutinizing steel.

So once you feel it, let your mind depart,

and let joy bask forever in your heart.