Little child
Who was me once,
My pity on you—
And reverence.If we could meet
Where I once strayed,
The betrayer
And the betrayed.If we could win back
In Time's defiance,
Would you be afeared of me,
Ten-year-old Terence?No, you would not fear.
You would love, trust,
Cherish, admire
This tedious dust.For oh! we were all brimming once
With the sun-sparkled dew.
One heart could have loved this hulk—
The ignorant heart of you.
T. H. White