To Dick on His Sixth Birthday

Tho' I am very old and wise,

And you are neither wise nor old,

When I look far into your eyes,

I know things I was never told:

I know how flame must strain and fret

Prisoned in a mortal net;

How joy with over-eager wings,

Bruises the small heart where he sings;

How too much life, like too much gold,

Is sometimes very hard to hold . . .

All that is talking—but I know

This much is true, six years ago

An angel living near the moon

Walked thru the sky and sang a tune

Plucking stars to make his crown—

And suddenly two stars fell down,

Two falling arrows made of light.

Six years ago this very night

I saw them fall and wondered why

The angel dropped them from the sky—

But when I saw your eyes I knew

The angel sent the stars to you.