The Child's Quest

My mother twines me roses wet with dew; Oft have I sought the garden through and through; I cannot find the tree whereon My mother’s roses grew.     Seek not, O child, the tree whereon     Thy mother’s roses grew. My mother tells me tales of noble deeds; Oft have I sought her book when no one heeds; I cannot find the page, alas, From which my mother reads.     Seek not, O child, to find the page     From which thy mother reads. My mother croons me songs all soft and low, Through the white night where little breezes blow; Yet never when the morning dawns, My mother’s songs I know.     Seek not, O child, at dawn of day     Thy mother’s songs to know.