POEMS OF INFANCY AND YOUTH INFANCY. PHILIP, MY KING. Who bears upon his baby brow the round Look at me with thy large brown eyes, For round thee the purple shadow lies With Love's invisible sceptre laden ; I am thine Esther, to command Till thou shalt find thy queen-handmaiden, Philip, my king! CRADLE SONG. FROM BITTER-SWEET." WHAT is the little one thinking about? Very wonderful things, no doubt ; Unwritten history! Unfathomed mystery! Yet he chuckles, and crows, and nods, and winks, Warped by colic, and wet by tears, And he 'll never know Where the summers go; He need not laugh, for he 'll find it so. Who can tell what a baby thinks? By which the manikin feels his way Into the light of day? Out from the shore of the unknown sea, Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls, Cup of his life, and couch of his rest? Words she has learned to murmur well? I can see the shadow creep CHEEKS as soft as July peaches; Minutes filled with shadeless gladness; Till from sleep we see thee breaking, WILLIAM C. BENNETT. CHOOSING A NAME. I HAVE got a new-born sister; I was nigh the first that kissed her. How papa's dear eyes did glisten! I shall have the naming of her. Now I wonder what would please her, What do you think of Caroline ? I am in a little fever Lest the name that I should give her Should disgrace her or defame her; I will leave papa to name her. THE BABY. MARY LAMB. WHERE did you come from, baby dear? Out of the everywhere into here. Where did you get your eyes so blue? Out of the sky as I came through. Where did you get that little tear? I found it waiting when I got here. What makes your forehead so smooth and high? | Will they go stumbling blindly in the darkness A soft hand stroked it as I went by. What makes your cheek like a warm white rose? I saw something better than any one knows. Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss? Three angels gave me at once a kiss. Where did you get this pearly ear? God spoke, and it came out to hear. Where did you get those arms and hands? Love made itself into hooks and bands. Feet, whence did you come, you darling things? From the same box as the cherubs' wings. How did they all come to be you? God thought about me, and so I grew. But how did you come to us, you dear? God thought about you, and so I am here. GEORGE MACDONALD. LITTLE FEET. Two little feet, so small that both may nestle Two tender feet upon the untried border Dimpled, and soft, and pink as peach-tree blossoms, In April's fragrant days, How can they walk among the briery tangles, Edging the world's rough ways? These rose-white feet, along the doubtful future, Alas! since Woman has the heaviest burden, Love, for a while, will make the path before them Will cull away the brambles, letting only But when the mother's watchful eyes are shrouded Away from sight of men, And these dear feet are left without her guiding, Who shall direct them then? How will they be allured, betrayed, deluded, Into what dreary mazes will they wander, Of Sorrow's tearful shades? Or find the upland slopes of Peace and Beauty, Whose sunlight never fades? Will they go toiling up Ambition's summit, The common world above? Or in some nameless vale, securely sheltered, Walk side by side with Love? Some feet there be which walk Life's track unwounded, Which find but pleasant ways: Some hearts there be to which this life is only A round of happy days. But these are few. Far more there are who wander Without a hope or friend, Who find their journey full of pains and losses, And long to reach the end. How shall it be with her, the tender stranger, Fair-faced and gentle-eyed, Before whose unstained feet the world's rude highway Stretches so fair and wide? |