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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=481196" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Children Selecting Books In A Library</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">With beasts and gods, above, the wall is bright.<br>The child's head, bent to the book-colored shelves,<br>Is slow and sidelong and food-gathering,<br>Moving in blind grace ... yet from the mural, Care<br>The grey-eyed one, fishing the morning mist,<br>Seizes the baby hero by the hair<br>And whispers, in the tongue of gods and children,<br>Words of a doom as ecumenical as dawn<br>But blanched like dawn, with dew.<br>The children's cries<br>Are to men the cries of crickets, dense with warmth<br>-- But dip a finger into Fafnir, taste it,<br>And all their words are plain as chance and pain.<br>Their tales are full of sorcerers and ogres<br>Because their lives are: the capricious infinite<br>That, like parents, no one has yet escaped<br>Except by luck or magic; and since strength<br>And wit are useless, be kind or stupid, wait<br>Some power's gratitude, the tide of things.<br>Read meanwhile ... hunt among the shelves, as dogs do, grasses,<br>And find one cure for Everychild's diseases<br>Beginning: Once upon a time there was<br>A wolf that fed, a mouse that warned, a bear that rode<br>A boy. Us men, alas! wolves, mice, bears bore.<br>And yet wolves, mice, bears, children, gods and men<br>In slow preambulation up and down the shelves<br>Of the universe are seeking ... who knows except themselves?<br>What some escape to, some escape: if we find Swann's<br>Way better than our own, an trudge on at the back<br>Of the north wind to -- to -- somewhere east<br>Of the sun, west of the moon, it is because we live<br>By trading another's sorrow for our own; another's<br>Impossibilities, still unbelieved in, for our own ...<br>&quot;I am myself still?&quot; For a little while, forget:<br>The world's selves cure that short disease, myself,<br>And we see bending to us, dewy-eyed, the great<br>CHANGE, dear to all things not to themselves endeared.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Randall+Jarrell">Randall Jarrell</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=481196" data-title="Children Selecting Books In A Library de Randall Jarrell" data-description="With beasts and gods, above, the wall is bright.
The child's head, bent to the book-colored shelves,
Is slow and sidelong and food-gathering,
Moving in blind grace ... yet from the mural, Care
The grey-eyed one, fishing the morning mist,
Seizes th..."></div>
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