The Man and the Child
By Ann Morrow Lindbergh

It is the man in us who works;
Who earns his daily bread and anxious scans
The evening skies to know tomorrow’s plans;
It is the man who hurries as he walks;
Finds courage in a crowd; shouts as he talks;
Who shuts his eyes and burrows through his task;
Who doubts his neighbor and who wears a mask;
It is the man in us who fears.

It is the child in us who plays;
Who sees no happiness beyond todays;
Who sings for joy; who wonders and who weeps;
It is the child in us at night who sleeps.
It is the child who silent turns his face,
Open maskless , naked in defense,
Simple with trust, distilled all pretense,
To sudden beauty in another’s face-

It is the child in who loves.