Childhood

Childhood's End

        I wake as from a broken sleep
           to hear a man's voice, soft and deep
           whose music nearly makes me weep
           for beckoning me from the keep
             of Childhood's End.

        And I approach him hushed and slow,
           this man whose voice I do not know
           who speaks to me of long ago
           when faerie winds were known to blow
              at Childhood's End.

        We talk together, him and me
           in languages that don't agree,
           except in what our eyes can see,
           of what we think that life will be
             at Childhood's End.

        And though his words are grand and great
           my fears have made me hesitate
           to lift the bar and cross the gate
           until I know what is my fate
             at Childhood's End.

        Although he tries to reassure
           he cannot tell me any more
           than there are things I will endure
           when once I give in to the lure
             of Childhood's End.

        And though he tries to comfort me,
           no one can know what is to be;
           although he seems to hold a key
           to living life more hopefully
             at Childhood's End.

        I do not know, nor can pretend
           to understand how life will wend.
        What welcome waits me will depend
           upon the man who stops to tend
             the land at Childhood's End.

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