A bloom-er you are,
With glows and shines blooming-
Eyes yours let 'em never blear
In the intricacies of despair glooming
In the bemusement of strange creatures!
When the founts of your knowledge
Are the dark gatherings of the dusk?
In such an innocent age
You may in craze of gaudery often burst
As springs of scattered droplets wide and far
Up to the flood-tide of Mischief, dear!
But the World's happier eyes
For your budding knowledge never dies
For It's yet to behold
You; as bright as diamond and as invaluable as gold
To spruce up the world of the pits
In the strait of deep bits;
Slumbered in the Inland
Of uncultivated crudeness
-Of woeful misery…
In pursuit of noble deeds, you rise
Like the eyeful being of sober identity.
Rise, O Child!
Rise!
Rise! !
Rise! ! !
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem