1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
18. |
19. |
20. |
21. |
22. |
23. |
24. |
25. |
26. |
27. |
28. |
29. |
30. |
31. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
8. |
9. |
10. |
11. |
12. |
13. |
14. |
15. |
16. |
17. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. | IV |
5. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
5. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
1. |
2. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
6. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
5. |
6. |
7. |
4. |
1. |
1. |
2. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
4. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
3. |
1. |
2. |
The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | ||
IV
I am the laughter of the new-born childOn whose soft-breathing sleep an angel smiled.
And I all sweet first things that are:
First songs of birds, not perfect as at last,—
Broken and incomplete,—
But sweet, O, sweet!
And I the first faint glimmer of a star
To the wreckt ship that tells the storm is past;
The first keen smells and stirrings of the Spring;
75
The silver glow
Of the new moon's ethereal ring;
The song the morning stars together made,
And the first kiss of lovers under the first June shade.
The Poems of Richard Watson Gilder | ||