BRYANT PARK

Oh the child newborn,
Welcome to this place,
Of these paths well worn,
By a constant pace;
One grain of sand on
A beach of endless space.

Remember one measure,
And keep it quite plain:
All joy is a pleasure,
And sorrow is pain.

See the street traffic.
Hear the motor sound.
See the faces tragic,
Walking all around.
Try to do what pleases you,
Despite the concrete ground.

Sleep and eat, then repeat,
And learn well as you grow;
Searching for a mind’s retreat,
In search of something to know.