The Dawn

I would be as ignorant as the dawn,
That has looked down
On that old queen measuring a town
With the pin of a brooch,
Or on the withered men that saw
From their pedantic Babylon
The careless planets in their courses,
The stars fade out where the moon comes,
And took their tablets and made sums–
Yet did but look, rocking the glittering coach
Above the cloudy shoulders of the horses.
I would be–for no knowledge is worth a straw–
Ignorant and wanton as the dawn.