Unlearning
WHEN I was young my heart was old,
My heart was rich and very wise:
Now all its wisdom has been told
And all its wealth is fairy gold
And all its joy futilities.
My heart would say, when I was young,
‘It would be well to grieve no more.
The griefs you sing had all been sung
Before you learned your mother-tongue,
And all your tears been shed before.’
When I was young my heart would say:
‘What childish things are these you seek?
The piper’s price is large to pay
And there will come a reckoning day!’
In this wise way my heart would speak.
But now it cries continually.
It says: ‘None ever felt as you!
Cast prudence to the winds, and see
How happy I can make you be.’
And some of what it says is true.
