There was a child went forth every day; And the first object he looked upon, and in the morning light, The first billboard, first pale wood, first dandelion, Day by day through the beautiful word came a song.

And the last object he peered upon would touch Cover filled with rotted fruits, or with brimming cup, How refreshing was the sense of growing old again, And the wandering spirit of a child’s heart went on.

The woods of lively green and sunlit trees, The shadows and rustling breezes of life, The evening hymn of crickets sang still above, And in the freshest air two little boys roam.

Their laughter—a treasure to be still embraced, In the truest freedom, and to nature scorched. Thus at sunset, in taking off shoes, So fell in the pool of innocence, never forced.

• Robert Frost