A dragonfly,
To human eye,
Does not look very
Like a fairy.

And neither does
A bat, because
No poet sings
Of mice with wings.

In dawn's first day,
The world's first elf
Or sprite or fay
Inspired itself.

Benjamin Lilliver (commonly, Ben)
Was approaching the day that would mark him as ten
(Ten being the number of years which had passed
Since his birth, nineteen-nine, on October the last).
Young Ben, notwithstanding his relative youth
Had decided to go on a quest for the Truth.

But, because he had had no connection with strife
Which from hearsay was part of the Meaning of Life,
And knowing that others had quested before
Using knowledge that pygmied his pitiful store,
He searched through the bookstores for classical tomes,
Investing his quarters in novels and poems.
He quickly discovered what others had found:
That different folks theories conflict and confound.
For only too many were glad to explain
That most of existence was nothing but pain,
While others dissented, maintaining instead
That man couldn't live fully until he was dead.
Then, "Seize," said the Renaissance writers, "the Day,
Do not let a moment of life get away."
Finally, words from the crucified King:
"Don't worry, and see what tomorrow will bring;
Live like a sparrow and love like a child."

Benjamin Lilliver suddenly smiled,
For all of the things he had read, heard, or seen,
Said people weren't people till they were thirteen.
Everyone longed for the halcyon days,
The glimpse through a mirror, the nebulous haze
When summers were sunny and pastures were green
And the record of sin was impeccably clean.

Benjamin's birthday was almost at hand,
But he would not submit: and he plotted and planned.
The day of his birthday he called through his door
And declared that he wouldn't grow up any more.
He found himself perfectly happy at nine,
And to live the year over would suit him just fine.
His friends were appalled and his parents were shocked.
For several more hours, Ben kept his door locked,
And when it was finally opened again,
He explained he was born in the year nineteen-ten.
He stayed in fourth grade an entire year more,
At the end, he was still the same age as before.

So for all of his life, then, this juvenile sage
Would pass through the years at the very same age.
He passed through four wars, a depression as well,
But all he would do was run, climb trees, and yell.

He never was cheated, or heartbroke, or lost,
He never liked girls, but avoided their cost.
Was he happy? He said that he was. Was he right?
He always was haunted by nightmares at night.
He couldn't distinguish the "is" from the "seems,"
But others are troubled by blindness and dreams.

Ben died finally (of measles) in seventy-five,
Not much wiser, perhaps, than he had been alive,
And nine years were tolled out when the church bell was rung
And the village mourned deeply, because he died young.