A child quietly observes three ordinary things—an oak tree, a doll, and the colors in her room—and finds them full of hidden life. The tree’s smell changes daily, sometimes fresh like her mother’s hair, sometimes borrowed from the garden, sometimes wind-blown. To her, that makes it almost human, with moods like grown-ups. Her doll is not just an object: she believes it moves when no one is watching, and she feels its aliveness through her fingers. Even colors seem to meet and pause, and she decides that shapes only truly live when colors collide and look surprised. The mood is gentle, curious, and a little lonely—she knows adults laugh at her ideas, but she trusts her own senses. The poem invites us to see the world with a child’s imagination, where nothing is really still or dead.
The Child Meditates — Summary
The oak-tree in front of my house Smells different every morning. Sometimes it smells fresh and wise Like my mother’s hair. Sometimes it stands ashamed Because it doesn’t own the smell It borrowed from our flower-garden. Sometimes it has a windy smell, As though it had come back from a long walk. The oak-tree in front of my house Has different smells, like grown up people.
My doll hides behind her pink cheeks, So that you can’t see when she moves, But it doesn’t matter because She always moves when no one is looking, And that is why people think she is still. People laugh when I say that my doll is alive, But if she were dead, my fingers Wouldn’t know that they were touching her. She lives inside a little house. And laughs because I cannot find the door.
The colours in my room Meet each other and hesitate. Is that what people call shape? Nobody seems to think so, But I believe that lines are dead shapes Unless they fall against each other And look surprised, like the colours in my room!