 | The poems of Richard Henry Stoddard |  |
159
ON A CHILD'S PICTURE.
I lay his picture on my knee,
The knee he loves to sit upon.
It is the image of my son,
And like the child a world to me.
The knee he loves to sit upon.
It is the image of my son,
And like the child a world to me.
He fronts me in a little chair,
In careless ease, and quiet grace,
A courtly deference in his face,
A glory in his shining hair.
In careless ease, and quiet grace,
A courtly deference in his face,
A glory in his shining hair.
An infant prince, a baby king,
To whom his ministers relate
Some intricate affair of state:
He hears, and weighs the smallest thing.
To whom his ministers relate
Some intricate affair of state:
He hears, and weighs the smallest thing.
Happy the day when he was born,
Two summers since, my summer child:
Two Junes have on his cradle smiled,
A rose of June without a thorn.
Two summers since, my summer child:
Two Junes have on his cradle smiled,
A rose of June without a thorn.
I stood beside his mother's bed
When he was born, at dead of night.
My heart grew faint with its delight;
I heard his cry: he was not dead!
When he was born, at dead of night.
My heart grew faint with its delight;
I heard his cry: he was not dead!
And she, his mother, dearer far
Than this poor life of mine can be,
She lives, she weeps, she clings to me,
Her dim eye brightening like a star.
Than this poor life of mine can be,
She lives, she weeps, she clings to me,
Her dim eye brightening like a star.
160
We heard his low uncertain moan,
In both our souls it smote a chord
Not reached by Love's divinest word;
It stirred, and stirs to him alone.
In both our souls it smote a chord
Not reached by Love's divinest word;
It stirred, and stirs to him alone.
“We have a child!” We smiled and wept.
He slept: God's Angel in the dark
Pushed down the stream his little bark,
And with it ours: with him we slept.
He slept: God's Angel in the dark
Pushed down the stream his little bark,
And with it ours: with him we slept.
At last the lingering summer passed,
The summer passed, the autumn came,
The dying woods were all a-flame,
The leaves were whirling in the blast.
The summer passed, the autumn came,
The dying woods were all a-flame,
The leaves were whirling in the blast.
He lived; our loving spirits wore
A royal diadem of joy:
Time laid his hands upon the boy,
And day by day he ripened more.
A royal diadem of joy:
Time laid his hands upon the boy,
And day by day he ripened more.
His dreamy eye grew like the sky,
A liquid blue, half dark, half bright;
Now like the moon, and now like night
With silver planets sown on high.
A liquid blue, half dark, half bright;
Now like the moon, and now like night
With silver planets sown on high.
His thin, pale ringlets turn to gold,
And gleam like suns on autumn eves;
Or like the sober autumn sheaves,
Whose strawy fires are faint and cold.
And gleam like suns on autumn eves;
Or like the sober autumn sheaves,
Whose strawy fires are faint and cold.
I take his picture from my knee,
And press it to my lips again:
I see an hundred in my brain,
And all of him, and dear to me.
And press it to my lips again:
I see an hundred in my brain,
And all of him, and dear to me.
161
He nestles in his nurse's arms,
His young eyes winking in the light:
I hear his sudden shriek at night,
Startled in dreams by vague alarms.
His young eyes winking in the light:
I hear his sudden shriek at night,
Startled in dreams by vague alarms.
We walk the floor, and hush his moan;
Again he sleeps: we kiss his brow.
I toss him on my shoulder now,
His Majesty is on the throne!
Again he sleeps: we kiss his brow.
I toss him on my shoulder now,
His Majesty is on the throne!
His kingly clutch is in my hair,
He sees a rival in the glass:
It stares, and passes as we pass;
It fades. I breathe the country air.
He sees a rival in the glass:
It stares, and passes as we pass;
It fades. I breathe the country air.
I see a cottage leagues from here,
A garden near, some orchard trees,
A leafy glimpse of creeping seas,
And in the cottage something dear.
A garden near, some orchard trees,
A leafy glimpse of creeping seas,
And in the cottage something dear.
A square of sunlight on the floor,
Blocked from the window; in the square
A happy child with heavenly hair,
To whom the world is more and more.
Blocked from the window; in the square
A happy child with heavenly hair,
To whom the world is more and more.
He sees the blue fly beat the pane,
Buzzing away the noon-tide hours,
The terrace grass, the scattered flowers,
The beetles, and the beads of rain.
Buzzing away the noon-tide hours,
The terrace grass, the scattered flowers,
The beetles, and the beads of rain.
He sees the gravelled walk below,
The narrow arbor draped with vines,
The light that like an emerald shines,
The small bird hopping to and fro.
The narrow arbor draped with vines,
The light that like an emerald shines,
The small bird hopping to and fro.
162
He drinks their linkèd beauty in,
They fill his thought with silent joy:
But now he spies a late-dropped toy,
And all his noisy pranks begin.
They fill his thought with silent joy:
But now he spies a late-dropped toy,
And all his noisy pranks begin.
They bear him to an upper room
When comes the eve; he hums for me,
Like some voluptuous drowsy bee,
That shuts his wings in honeyed gloom.
When comes the eve; he hums for me,
Like some voluptuous drowsy bee,
That shuts his wings in honeyed gloom.
I see a shadow in a chair,
I see a shadowy cradle go,
I hear a ditty, soft and low:
The mother and the child are there.
I see a shadowy cradle go,
I hear a ditty, soft and low:
The mother and the child are there.
At length the balm of sleep is shed.
One bed contains my bud and flower.
They sleep, and dream, and hour by hour
Goes by, while angels watch the bed.
One bed contains my bud and flower.
They sleep, and dream, and hour by hour
Goes by, while angels watch the bed.
Sleep on, and dream, ye blessèd pair!
My prayers shall guard ye night and day;
Ye guard me so, ye make me pray,
Ye make my happy life a prayer.
My prayers shall guard ye night and day;
Ye guard me so, ye make me pray,
Ye make my happy life a prayer.
Dream on, dream on! and in your dreams
Remember me,—I love ye well:
I love ye more than tongue can tell,
Dear Souls, and ere the morning beams
Remember me,—I love ye well:
I love ye more than tongue can tell,
Dear Souls, and ere the morning beams
My soul shall strike your trail of sleep,
In some enchanted, holy place,
And fold ye in a fond embrace,
And kiss ye till with bliss I weep!
In some enchanted, holy place,
And fold ye in a fond embrace,
And kiss ye till with bliss I weep!
| The poems of Richard Henry Stoddard | |