 | Poems |  |
TODDLING MAY.
Five pearly teeth and two soft blue eyes,
Two sinless eyes of blue,
That are dim or are bright they scarce know why,
That, baby dear, is you.
And parted hair of a pale, pale gold,
That is priceless, every curl,
And a boldness shy, and a fear half bold,
Ay, that's my baby girl.
Two sinless eyes of blue,
That are dim or are bright they scarce know why,
That, baby dear, is you.
And parted hair of a pale, pale gold,
That is priceless, every curl,
And a boldness shy, and a fear half bold,
Ay, that's my baby girl.
A small, small frock, as the snowdrop white,
That is worn with a tiny pride,
With a sash of blue, by a little sight
With a baby wonder eyed;
And a pattering pair of restless shoes,
Whose feet have a tiny fall,
That not for the world's coined wealth we'd lose,
That, Baby May, we call.
That is worn with a tiny pride,
With a sash of blue, by a little sight
With a baby wonder eyed;
And a pattering pair of restless shoes,
Whose feet have a tiny fall,
That not for the world's coined wealth we'd lose,
That, Baby May, we call.
A rocker of dolls with staring eyes
That a thought of sleep disdain,
That with shouts of tiny lullabies
Are by'd and by'd in vain;
A drawer of carts with baby noise,
With strainings and pursed-up brow,
Whose hopes are cakes and whose dreams are toys,
Ay, that's my baby now.
That a thought of sleep disdain,
That with shouts of tiny lullabies
Are by'd and by'd in vain;
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With strainings and pursed-up brow,
Whose hopes are cakes and whose dreams are toys,
Ay, that's my baby now.
A sinking of heart, a shuddering dread,
Too deep for a word or tear,
Or a joy whose measure may not be said,
As the future is hope or fear;
A sumless venture, whose voyage's fate
We would and yet would not know,
Is she whom we dower with love as great
As is perilled by hearts below.
Too deep for a word or tear,
Or a joy whose measure may not be said,
As the future is hope or fear;
A sumless venture, whose voyage's fate
We would and yet would not know,
Is she whom we dower with love as great
As is perilled by hearts below.
Oh what as her tiny laugh is dear,
Or our days with gladness girds!
Or what is the sound we love to hear
Like the joy of her baby words!
Oh pleasure our pain and joys our fears
Should be, could the future say,
Away with sorrow, time has no tears
For the eyes of Baby May.
Or our days with gladness girds!
Or what is the sound we love to hear
Like the joy of her baby words!
Oh pleasure our pain and joys our fears
Should be, could the future say,
Away with sorrow, time has no tears
For the eyes of Baby May.
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