Out of the unknown into the known,
From the infinite sea to the sea of time
Cometh a voyager, sailing alone,
Steering with confidence all sublime
Straight to the land of joy and rest:
The tropic isle of his mother's breast.
Little he cares whether hall or cot
Shelter his shallop from wind and wet;
Cotton or velvet, he heedeth not —
Peasant or lord — they are nothing yet!
Crown for head and sceptre for hand
Are toys and playthings in baby-land.
Oh, but he finds out wonderful things!
The dome of his cradle high and wide;
The drowsy sense when the mother sings;
The swinging ebb of the outward tide,
Which somewhere underneath him seems
To drift him into the land of dreams!
Then wide awake, from the distance dim
In far, mysterious realms of space,
A soft, bright moon doth rise for him:
The tender round of his mother's face.
In this wide world finds he charm on charm,
As he rides round the room on his mother's arm.
Smiles and tears in your bonny eyes,
Shine and cloud on your coral lips,
Little explorer, out of the skies,
Searching out truth with your finger-tips!
You know not yet, as we old folks know,
There is nothing new in this world below!
Ah! What disdainful looks you cast —
Captain, who sailed from the unknown shore!
Rogue's eyes answer me: "Not so fast,
Filling my ears with your well-worn lore;
Baby or fairy or sprite or elf,
You’ll find I am something new myself!"
