Child, with many a childish wile,
Timid look, and blushing smile,
Downy wings to steal thy way,
Gilded bow, and quiver gay,
Who in thy simple mien would trace
The tyrant of the human race?

Who is he whose flinty heart
Hath not felt the flying dart?
Who is he that from the wound
Hath not pain and pleasure found?
Who is he that hath not shed
Curse and blessing on thy head?

Poet Bio

What People are Saying

"I found it especially rewarding to see how positively each student embraced the total experience. Clearly they were having a great time and one that would last a lifetime!"
Alison Schaeffler-Murphy
FL POL Coordinator