- The world is full of orphans: firstly, those
- Who are so in the strict sense of the phrase;
- But many a lonely tree the loftier grows
- Than others crowded in the Forest’s maze. —
- The next are such as are not doomed to lose
- Their tender parents in their budding days,
- But, merely, their parental tenderness,
- Which leaves them orphans of the heart no less.
I searched the whole world for you, imperfectly. I got tired, and stood still, and you found me. I’ll stand still now, until it’s all over.
I don’t know you yet. I don’t want to know you. I want to meet you every day, over and over again. Divine Providence made me talk all the time, while you keep still, so you can stay mysterious for as long as you like. I’ll never shut up, I promise.
I watch our little one sleep. He has the dreams I want. He dreams of nothing but fun. He dreams of nothing but you.
(Update: I’m silly. I didn’t attribute the poem. I realize now that they don’t always teach in wealthy people’s colleges what they used to teach in poor people’s elementary schools. Anybody recognize that?)
(In the comments: Patsy gets it right off. It’s old Georgie Gordon)