“Thou little child, yet glorious in the night + 

Of heaven-born freedom on thy Being’s height, + 

Why with such earnest pains dost thou provoke + 

The Years to bring the inevitable yoke⁠— + 

Thus blindly with thy blessedness at strife? + 

Full soon thy soul shall have her earthly freight, + 

And custom lie upon thee with a weight + 

Heavy as frost, and deep almost as life.” + 

Wordsworth + 