Innocence to one who knows
Distracted, poised, and then composed
The proper place shall never be
Light, laugh, child-visions see.

The blossom young can never hear
The beauty, grace, or trembling fear
That beckons weak to taste the scent
Among the flowers, time is spent.

Spring is growth and time and trust
Mine is over, short, and must
Fall away as summer reigns
Flowers bloom in lovers’ lanes.

To tug the gentle petal young
Whose golden voice above all sung
Within the growth there is one rose,
Innocence to one who knows.