THE CHILD WHO is decked with prince's robes and who has jewelled chains round his neck loses all pleasure in his play; his dress hampers him at every step.
In fear that it may be frayed, or stained with dust he keeps himself from the world, and is afraid even to move.
Mother, it is no gain, thy bondage of finery, if it keep one shut off from the healthful dust of the earth, if it rob one of the right of entrance to the great fair of common human life.

MY WORLD, when I was a child, you were a little girl-neighbour, a loving timid stranger.
        Then you grew bold and talked to me across the fence, offering me toys and flowers and shells.
        Next you coaxed me away from my work, you tempted me into the land of the dusk or the weedy corner of some garden in mid-day loneliness.
        At length you told me stories about bygone times, with which the present ever longs to meet so as to be rescued from its prison in the moment.

MAIDEN, THY beauty is like a fruit
which is yet to mature,
tense with an unyielding secret