To a Child
The leaves talked in the twilight, dear;
Hearken the tale they told:
How in some far-off place and year,
Before the world grew old,
I was a dreaming forest tree,
You were a wild, sweet bird
Who sheltered at the heart of me
Because the north wind stirred;
How, when the chiding gale was still,
When peace fell soft on fear,
You stayed one golden hour to fill
My dream with singing, dear.
To-night the self-same songs are sung
The first green forest heard;
My heart and the gray world grow young—
To shelter you, my bird.
From the session of a daughter and mom.
Poetry titled To a Child by Sophie Jewett (1910).
Lensed by: @zuranurana @rdwn_arq
Shot on A7II w/ FE 28mm F2 & a6000 w/ Canon FD 50mm F1.4
--Visournal: a Visual Journal
2022
