With pride deposed and passions slain
we hope, aspire and then on trust
Beneath vaulted skies we attain
to master life before we're dust

Then take the gifts that we have earned
and turn out surcease from despair
To reap the pearls others have learned
echos childhood calls to be fair

I crossed over a young boys path
who had stooped and bent for hours
There he escaped to love from wrath
while he tended to his flowers

In him I saw myself one day
a cold spirit needing tending
And in his face I saw the way
to happiness he was rending

Simple things from a little boy
do the same for old and new
Bringing to all wonders and joy
a smile he shared with me and you

A little thing from a kind child
who then shared with me his treasures
Taught me the virtues of the mild
exposing life's greatest pleasures

Tate
Original version with music
http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/aristate/604858/