(If Plato had considered a tree instead of a cave)
Cf. Republic, Book VII
For a little child a tree is forever
It is as it was, and will always be
In a dreamy stasis beyond all time
True sunlight flickering pale shadows away
A tree is not a transient republic –
It is a monarchy, and crowned with green
For a royal fellowship ordained by God
This summer palace of princes and princesses
As royal children they rule over toys and dolls
Lizards and bees and beetles, dogs and cats
And little chameleons who sometimes pause
To count the coins in their pink moneybags
The ceremonies of ladies and their knights
Are properly observed beneath fair leaves
Upheld by arches and pendentives of oak
Through which sunbeams and magic daydreams fly
And when sweet summer’s children are quite old
Reduced to servitude in paying bills
And answering irrelevant messages
On shrilling importunate telephones:
They will cradle their cave-shadowy ‘phones
And remember that
For a little child a tree is forever