This poem, by a less known poet, Sarah Doudney, is one of those childhood favourites of mine. I found it in the introduction to one of Ruskin Bond’s books. It also happens to be a favourite of Bond’s.
The pure, the bright, the beautiful,
That stirred our hearts in youth,
The impulse to a wordless prayer,
The dreams of love and truth;
The longings after something lost,
The spirirt’s yearning cry,
The striving after better hopes…
These things can never die
SARAH DOUDNEY
kilroykishore 