To R. L. S.

William Ernest Henley

A child,
Curious and innocent,
Slips from his Nurse, and rejoicing
Loses himself in the Fair.

Thro’ the jostle and din
Wandering, he revels,
Dreaming, desiring, possessing;
Till, of a sudden
Tired and afraid, he beholds
The sordid assemblage
Just as it is; and he runs
With a sob to his Nurse
(Lighting at last on him),
And in her motherly bosom
Cries him to sleep.

Thus thro’ the World,
Seeing and feeling and knowing,
Goes Man:  till at last,
Tired of experience, he turns
To the friendly and comforting breast
Of the old nurse, Death.

Next 10 Poems

• William Ernest Henley : To S. C.
• William Ernest Henley : To W. A.
• William Ernest Henley : To W. B.
• William Ernest Henley : To W. R.
• William Ernest Henley : To W. R. ( Ii )
• William Ernest Henley : Trees And The Menace Of Night
• William Ernest Henley : Vigil
• William Ernest Henley : Villon's Straight Tip To All Cross Coves
• William Ernest Henley : Visitor
• William Ernest Henley : Waiting

Previous 10 Poems

• William Ernest Henley : To R. F. B.
• William Ernest Henley : To R. A. M. S.
• William Ernest Henley : To P. A. G.
• William Ernest Henley : To My Mother Iii
• William Ernest Henley : To My Mother Ii
• William Ernest Henley : To My Mother
• William Ernest Henley : To Me At My Fifth-floor Window
• William Ernest Henley : To K. De M.
• William Ernest Henley : To James Mcneill Whistler
• William Ernest Henley : To J. A. C.