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Published version that appeared in A Book of Resemblances

This honey is rare.
This child in her painting
has gathered the color from the rose itself.

Yet Malraux argues
that a child has no care or lacks skill. this skill is not a thing learnd
but a thing loved. Observe
how free from all other will but the rose itself.
the child's hand moves.
This color, so related, by an ardor
no later knowledge may increase,
is all that art intends
or love or life seeks.

Christ himself torn on the cross
knowing Man's agony
no greater passion knew
than this child makes known to us
in a painted face
whose blotcht intensity
has reacht beauty.

See, how directly the bee
files to the heart of the rose,
or these children, who have not been diverted
by the opinion of others,
travel the way that is obscured to us
to the place where the rose grows.