O thou golden image,
Miniature of bliss,
Speaking sweetly, speaking meetly!
Every word deserves a kiss.
Strange, remote and splendid
Childhood’s fancy pure
Thrills to thoughts we cannot fathom,
Quick felicities obscure.
When the eyes grown solemn
Laughter fades away,
Nature of her mighty childhood
Recollects the Titan play;
Woodlands touched by sunlight
Where the elves abode,
Giant meetings,Titan greetings,
Fancies of a youthful God.
These are coming on thee
In thy secret thought;
God remembers in thy bosom
All the wonders that He wrought.
By: Sri Aurobindo