Mad Rush

From An Apple Gathering by Christina Rossetti :
“I plucked pink blossoms from mine apple tree and wore them all that evening in my hair: Then in due season when I went to see I found no apples there.” What happened to the intrinsic beauty of youth and childhood? Why are we, as a culture, in a mad rush to usher children into adulthood? Jon Benet Ramsey was made up to be a lady, when a little girl is who she should have been. Why must we pluck the blossom of youth and curse the tree? Train the child up, we did, to sell youth for a nominal fee. Cheap is the fare; steep is the price we pay. What will the reaper find? Fallowed and cursed we shall ever be. Children in the slave market may we never see. How low will we go? How young must blossoms be, to pluck for one night of ecstasy. No wonder stamped on their forehead is “worthless, careless, and free.” If our forefathers could speak and shout one plea, “save our youth, be ye patient for that tree.”