 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
33
MY LITTLE ONE.
At busy morn—at quiet noon—
At evening sad and still,
As wayward as the lawless mist
That wanders where it will,
She comes—my little one.
At evening sad and still,
As wayward as the lawless mist
That wanders where it will,
She comes—my little one.
I cannot have a dream so wrought
Of nothings, nor so wild
With fantasies, but she is there,
My heavenly-human child—
My glad, gay little one.
Of nothings, nor so wild
With fantasies, but she is there,
My heavenly-human child—
My glad, gay little one.
She never spake a single word
Of wisdom, I agree;
I loved her not for what she was,
But what she was to me—
My precious little one.
Of wisdom, I agree;
I loved her not for what she was,
But what she was to me—
My precious little one.
You might not call her beautiful,
Nor haply was she so;
I loved her for the loveliness
That I alone could know—
My sweet-souled little one.
Nor haply was she so;
I loved her for the loveliness
That I alone could know—
My sweet-souled little one.
I say I loved, but that is wrong;
As if the love could change
Because my dove hath got her wings,
And taken wider range!
Forgive, my little one.
As if the love could change
Because my dove hath got her wings,
And taken wider range!
Forgive, my little one.
I still can see her shining curls
All tremulously fair,
Like fifty yellow butterflies
A-fluttering in the air:
My angel little one.
All tremulously fair,
Like fifty yellow butterflies
A-fluttering in the air:
My angel little one.
I see her tender mouth, her eyes,
Her garment softly bright,
Like some fair cloud about the morn
Will roses all a-light:
My deathless little one.
Her garment softly bright,
Like some fair cloud about the morn
Will roses all a-light:
My deathless little one.
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |