Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold By "F. Harald Williams"[i.e. F. W. O. Ward]. First Edition |
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WEE BABY. |
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 | Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold |  |
WEE BABY.
Wee baby, free baby, how I sadly envy you,
Kicking out your feet and hands far above mere custom's bands,
Prison pales and blinding scales, or its pert and pinching shoe;
I am waxing old and shy, I am half a century,
Not your tender crudity;
I don't utter sounds like oaths and disport outside my clothes,
In your fearful nudity;
I daren't scribble on the door, I mayn't sprawl about the floor.
Kicking out your feet and hands far above mere custom's bands,
Prison pales and blinding scales, or its pert and pinching shoe;
I am waxing old and shy, I am half a century,
Not your tender crudity;
I don't utter sounds like oaths and disport outside my clothes,
In your fearful nudity;
I daren't scribble on the door, I mayn't sprawl about the floor.
Wee baby, free baby, spurning others' bolts and bars,
Heeding not our stays and dress in your broad deliciousness,
Spread in state on dish and plate, or annexing my cigars;
You can eat howe'er you will, careless what you spoil or spill,
Checked by no propriety;
There's no border to the deep of your appetite, save sleep,
And your own satiety;
I can't suck my precious thumbs, nor indulge in toes as crumbs.
Heeding not our stays and dress in your broad deliciousness,
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You can eat howe'er you will, careless what you spoil or spill,
Checked by no propriety;
There's no border to the deep of your appetite, save sleep,
And your own satiety;
I can't suck my precious thumbs, nor indulge in toes as crumbs.
Wee baby, free baby, tyrannising over each,
Parents, servants, great and small, flying to your faintest call
Up the stairs and over chairs—ruling all within your reach;
You can flout the fiercest claws of our pussy cats or laws,
Nobody will hurt you;
For your wildest work is grace—if you slap a Bishop's face,
Every vice is virtue;
I can't play the chartered fool, I must always be at school.
Parents, servants, great and small, flying to your faintest call
Up the stairs and over chairs—ruling all within your reach;
You can flout the fiercest claws of our pussy cats or laws,
Nobody will hurt you;
For your wildest work is grace—if you slap a Bishop's face,
Every vice is virtue;
I can't play the chartered fool, I must always be at school.
Wee baby, free baby, if you break my China things,
And that lovely Dresden dog or the whole great decalogue,
It is just your simple trust trying so your angel wings;
You may set the house on fire, and to your dear heart's desire
Only be undutiful,
Still whatever is abused your worst mischiefs are excused
As most right and beautiful;
I daren't crack the slightest code in one room of my abode.
And that lovely Dresden dog or the whole great decalogue,
It is just your simple trust trying so your angel wings;
You may set the house on fire, and to your dear heart's desire
Only be undutiful,
Still whatever is abused your worst mischiefs are excused
As most right and beautiful;
I daren't crack the slightest code in one room of my abode.
Wee baby, free baby, everything you say is wise,
Everything you do is good openly or understood—
Running pins into our chins or fat knuckles in the eyes;
Every blunder, every wile wakes a fond maternal smile
At your strange precocity,
Every breeze of trouble raised by those naughty hands is praised—
Every new atrocity;
I mayn't ruffle nurse's hair, or her temper, past repair.
Everything you do is good openly or understood—
Running pins into our chins or fat knuckles in the eyes;
Every blunder, every wile wakes a fond maternal smile
At your strange precocity,
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Every new atrocity;
I mayn't ruffle nurse's hair, or her temper, past repair.
Wee baby, free baby, how I envy you your bib
And your bottle, and your throne where in pride you reign alone
Swaying hearts with pretty arts in the cradle or the crib;
You shall take your royal ease, break whatever you may please—
Heads and legs and crockery;
You shall riot yet and take toll of each delight, and make
All our rules a mockery;
I dare not dispute your will, I am quite obedient still.
And your bottle, and your throne where in pride you reign alone
Swaying hearts with pretty arts in the cradle or the crib;
You shall take your royal ease, break whatever you may please—
Heads and legs and crockery;
You shall riot yet and take toll of each delight, and make
All our rules a mockery;
I dare not dispute your will, I am quite obedient still.
| Matin Bells and Scarlet and Gold | |