  | 
          TO child! O new-born denizen, 
          Of life's great city! on thy head 
          The glory of morn is shed, 
          Like a celestial benison! 
          Here at the portal thou dost stand, 
          And with thy little hand 
          Thou openest the mysterious gate 
          Into the future's undiscovered land. 
          -- H. Wadsworth Longfellow, To a Child  | 
         
       
       |