To Dick, on His Sixth Birthday

Though I am very old and wise,
And you are neither wise nor old,
When I look far into your eyes,
I know things I was never told:
I know how flame must strain and fret
Prisoned in a mortal net;
How joy with over-eager wings,
Bruises the small heart where he sings;
How too much life, like too much gold,
Is sometimes very hard to hold…
All that is talking—I know
This much is true, six years ago
An angel living near the moon
Walked through the sky and sang a tune
Plucking stars to make his crown—
And suddenly two stars fell down,
Two falling arrows made of light.
Six years ago this very night
I saw them fall and wondered why
The angel dropped them from the sky—
But when I saw your eyes I knew
The angel sent the stars to you.