High School English

WHY does this young and untried flesh so move me?
Why does this sudden beauty catch at my breath?
Delicate-stepping as colts, and awkward, and
these children make an innocent answer to death.
Is it because they cannot encompass its meaning?
Their small, high, reed-thin voices, clear on the air,
can give me belief once more in a timeless Present.
That they are mortal they neither know nor care.
“Quiet,” I say, and stare at each delicate body,
perfect, unknown, and eager — strong as a blade,
slight as a bow drawn taut with a curious sureness,
seeing the sun new-minted, the world new-made.