G To Little Renée i But I, the first, this very day, Such dulcet voices for her sake As, curvèd hand at straining ear, I long have stood and sought to hear Ah, well I know that not for us And that the golden age is past Were I if I could but rehearse One stave of Wither's starry verse, Or in some garden-spot suspire On weak, clipped wings my wishes fly. Transform them then and make them doves, That they may circle ever low Above the abode where you shall grow And you shall feed the gentle brood From out your hand-content they'll be Only to coo their songs to thee. William Aspenwall Bradley (1878 A RHYME OF ONE You sleep upon your mother's breast, A welcome, long a wished-for Guest, A Baby-Boy, you wonder why You try to talk-how hard you try!- Ere long you won't be such a dunce: And fly your kite, like folk who once You'll rhyme and woo, and fight and joke, Such feats are never done by folk Some day, too, you may have your joy, Yes, you, yourself, may own a Boy, He'll dance, and laugh, and crow; he'll do (You crown a happy home, though you But when he's grown shall you be here And talk of times when he (the Dear!) Dear Child, 'tis your poor lot to be I'm glad, though I am old, you see, While you are One. Frederick Locker-Lampson [1821-1895] To a New-Born Child TO A NEW-BORN CHILD You are as fair a little dame As ever from a glad world came We smile above you, but you fret; 'Tis hard for little babes to prize A life of trouble. And have you come from Heaven to earth? A doleful travel. "Why did I come?" you seem to cry, But that's a riddle you and I Can scarce unravel. Perhaps you really wished to come, What! did you leave celestial bliss To bless us with a daughter's kiss? Have patience for a little space, You might have come to a worse place, No wonder now you would have stayed, For, utter stranger as you are, For your arriving, And trusty friends and lovers true Without your striving. 91 The earth is full of lovely things, You'll soon forget them; And others, of a rarer kind Will grow upon your tender mind If you will let them Until you find that your exchange Of Heaven for earth expands your range E'en as a flier, And that your mother, you and I, If we do what we should, may fly? Than Angels higher... Cosmo Monkhouse [1840-1901] BABY MAY 1 CHEEKS as soft as July peaches, Crows and laughs and tearful eyes, Lights and shadows swifter born Than on wind-swept Autumn corn, Ever some new tiny notion or Making every limb all motion-bago 【 Catching up of legs and arms, Throwings back and small alarms, LJA Hands all wants and looks all wonder Alice to ampo¶ Mischiefs done with such a winning 10 To be caught from tray or table; 1. J I Beauty all that beauty may be 7 I That's May Bennett, that's my baby. I William Cox Bennett (1826-1895] Of that fine gold the autumn's wear Of rose leaves fashioned in the south / And from the honeyed lips of bliss 'Mid twilight thrushes that rejoice i |