 | The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie |  |
TO A CHILD.
Whose imp art thou, with dimpled cheek,
And curly pate, and merry eye,
And arm and shoulder round and sleek,
And soft and fair?—thou urchin sly!
And curly pate, and merry eye,
And arm and shoulder round and sleek,
And soft and fair?—thou urchin sly!
What boots it who with sweet caresses
First call'd thee his,—or squire or hind?
Since thou in every wight that passes,
Dost now a friendly play-mate find.
First call'd thee his,—or squire or hind?
Since thou in every wight that passes,
Dost now a friendly play-mate find.
Thy downcast glances, grave, but cunning,
As fringed eye-lids rise and fall;
Thy shyness, swiftly from me running,
Is infantine coquetry all.
As fringed eye-lids rise and fall;
Thy shyness, swiftly from me running,
Is infantine coquetry all.
But far a-field thou hast not flown;
With mocks and threats, half lisp'd, half spoken,
I feel thee pulling at my gown,
Of right good will thy simple token.
With mocks and threats, half lisp'd, half spoken,
I feel thee pulling at my gown,
Of right good will thy simple token.
And thou must laugh and wrestle too,
A mimic warfare with me waging;
To make, as wily lovers do,
Thy after-kindness more engaging.
A mimic warfare with me waging;
To make, as wily lovers do,
Thy after-kindness more engaging.
The wilding rose, sweet as thyself,
And new-cropt daisies are thy treasure:
I'd gladly part with worldly pelf
To taste again thy youthful pleasure.
And new-cropt daisies are thy treasure:
I'd gladly part with worldly pelf
To taste again thy youthful pleasure.
But yet, for all thy merry look,
Thy frisks and wiles, the time is coming,
When thou shalt sit in cheerless nook,
The weary spell or horn-book thumbing.
Thy frisks and wiles, the time is coming,
When thou shalt sit in cheerless nook,
The weary spell or horn-book thumbing.
796
Well; let it be!—through weal and wo,
Thou knowst not now thy future range;
Life is a motley, shifting show,
And thou a thing of hope and change!
Thou knowst not now thy future range;
Life is a motley, shifting show,
And thou a thing of hope and change!
| The Dramatic and Poetical Works of Joanna Baillie | |