The tiny little rabbits,
that hop along the park, regard him not.
He totters along, and in his eyes, his smile,
his wobble, is one expression; every step,
every turn over the shoulder and searching look; all bespeak,
a child who does not move with thought, but moves
with joy — He is untainted, unfettered
and so unprejudiced; he is one by whom
the whole world derives happiness; one to whom
Truth has such deep silence conferred;
that silence seems a thing, of which
he has no need. He is by nature
led to a quietude so perfect, that I behold
with envy, what the young child hardly feels.
–He ran towards me smiling, a bounce to his step,
extending a clenched fist; I inquired the nature
of the mysterious object contained therein,
Into those tender eyes I looked, as he proffered
a shiny pebble. I caught a glimpse of silence
dancing in those eyes; and as he pulled away
to find more treasure, I was left stunned
and staring.
--Srividya
Jan 26, 2012
PS: This poem is inspired by the meter in Wordsworth’s Old Man Traveling.