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Or else he would forego his mortal nature。



John Keats '1795…1821'















THE BABY













〃ONLY A BABY SMALL〃



Only a baby small;

Dropped from the skies;

Only a laughing face;

Two sunny eyes;

Only two cherry lips;

One chubby nose;

Only two little hands;

Ten little toes。



Only a golden head;

Curly and soft;

Only a tongue that wags

Loudly and oft;

Only a little brain;

Empty of thought;

Only a little heart;

Troubled with naught。



Only a tender flower

Sent us to rear;

Only a life to love

While we are here;

Only a baby small;

Never at rest;

Small; but how dear to us;

God knoweth best。



Matthias Barr '1831…?'





ONLY



Something to live for came to the place;

Something to die for maybe;

Something to give even sorrow a grace;

And yet it was only a baby!



Cooing; and laughter; and gurgles; and cries;

Dimples for tenderest kisses;

Chaos of hopes; and of raptures; and sighs;

Chaos of fears and of blisses。



Last year; like all years; the rose and the thorn;

This year a wilderness maybe;

But heaven stooped under the roof on the morn

That it brought them only a baby。



Harriet Prescott Spofford '1835…1921'





INFANT JOY



〃I have no name;

I am but two days old。〃

What shall I call thee?

〃I happy am;

Joy is my name。〃

Sweet joy befall thee!



Pretty joy!

Sweet joy; but two days old。

Sweet joy I call thee;

Thou dost smile;

I sing the while;

Sweet joy befall thee!



William Blake '1757…1827'





BABY

From 〃At the Back of the North Wind〃



Where did you come from; baby dear?

Out of the everywhere into the here。



Where did you get those eyes so blue?

Out of the sky as I came through。



What makes the light in them sparkle and spin?

Some of the starry spikes left in。



Where did you get that little tear?

I found it waiting when I got here。



What makes your forehead so smooth and high?

A soft hand stroked it as I went by。



What makes your cheek like a warm white rose?

I saw something better than any one knows。



Whence that three…cornered smile of bliss?

Three angels gave me at once a kiss。



Where did you get this pearly ear?

God spoke; and it came out to hear。



Where did you get those arms and hands?

Love made itself into bonds and bands。



Feet; where did you come; you darling things?

From the same box as the cherubs' wings。



How did they all just come to be you?

God thought about me; and so I grew。



But how did you come to us; you dear?

God thought about you; and so I am here。



George Macdonald '1824…1905'





TO A NEW…BORN BABY GIRL



And did thy sapphire shallop slip

Its moorings suddenly; to dip


Adown the clear; ethereal sea

From star to star; all silently?

What tenderness of archangels

In silver; thrilling syllables

Pursued thee; or what dulcet hymn

Low…chanted by the cherubim?

And thou departing must have heard

The holy Mary's farewell word;

Who with deep eyes and wistful smile

Remembered Earth a little while。



Now from the coasts of morning pale

Comes safe to port thy tiny sail。

Now have we seen by early sun;

Thy miracle of life begun。

All breathing and aware thou art;

With beauty templed in thy heart

To let thee recognize the thrill

Of wings along far azure hill;

And hear within the hollow sky

Thy friends the angels rushing by。

These shall recall that thou hast known

Their distant country as thine own;

To spare thee word of vales and streams;

And publish heaven through thy dreams。

The human accents of the breeze

Through swaying star…acquainted trees

Shall seem a voice heard earlier;

Her voice; the adoring sigh of her;

When thou amid rosy cherub…play

Didst hear her call thee; far away;

And dream in very Paradise

The worship of thy mother's eyes。



Grace Hazard Conkling '1878…





TO LITTLE RENEE ON FIRST SEEING HER LYING IN HER CRADLE



Who is she here that now I see;

This dainty new divinity;

Love's sister; Venus' child?  She shows

Her hues; white lily and pink rose;

And in her laughing eyes the snares

That hearts entangle unawares。

Ah; woe to men if Love should yield

His arrows to this girl to wield

Even in play; for she would give

Sore wounds that none might take and live。

Yet no such wanton strain is hers;

Nor Leda's child and Jupiter's

Is she; though swans no softer are

Than whom she fairer is by far。

For she was born beside the rill

That gushes from Parnassus' hill;

And by the bright Pierian spring

She shall receive an offering

From every youth who pipes a strain

Beside his flocks upon the plain。

But I; the first; this very day;

Will tune for her my humble lay;

Invoking this new Muse to render

My oaten reed more sweet and tender;

Within its vibrant hollows wake

Such dulcet voices for her sake

As; curved hand at straining ear;

I long have stood and sought to hear

Borne with the warm midsummer breeze

With scent of hay and hum of bees

Faintly from far…off Sicily。。。。



Ah; well I know that not for us

Are Virgil and Theocritus;

And that the golden age is past

Whereof they sang; and thou; the last;

Sweet Spenser; of their god…like line;

Soar far too swift for verse of mine

One strain to compass of your song。

Yet there are poets that prolong

Of your rare voice the ravishment

In silver cadences; content

Were I if I could but rehearse

One stave of Wither's starry verse;

Weave such wrought richness as recalls

Britannia's lovely Pastorals;

Or in some garden…spot suspire

One breath of Marvell's magic fire

When in the green and leafy shade

He sees dissolving all that's made。

Ah; little Muse still far too high

On weak; clipped wings my wishes fly。

Transform them then and make them doves;

Soft…moaning birds that Venus loves;

That they may circle ever low

Above the abode where you shall grow

Into your gracious womanhood。

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…





RHYME OF ONE



You sleep upon your mother's breast;

Your race begun;

A welcome; long a wished…for Guest;

Whose age is One。



A Baby…Boy; you wonder why

You cannot run;

You try to talk … how hard you try! …

You're only One。



Ere long you won't be such a dunce:

You'll eat your bun;

And fly your kite; like folk who once

Were only One。



You'll rhyme and woo; and fight and joke;

Perhaps you'll pun!

Such feats are never done by folk

Before they're One。



Some day; too; you may have your joy;

And envy none;

Yes; you; yourself; may own a Boy;

Who isn't One。



He'll dance; and laugh; and crow; he'll do

As you have done:

(You crown a happy home; though you

Are only One。)



But when he's grown shall you be here

To share his fun;

And talk of times when he (the Dear!)

Was hardly One?



Dear Child; 'tis your poor lot to be

My little Son;

I'm glad; though I am old; you see; …

While you are One。



Frederick Locker…Lampson '1821…1895'





TO A NEW…BORN CHILD



Small traveler from an unseen shore;

By mortal eye ne'er seen before;

To you; good…morrow。

You are as fair a little dame

As ever from a glad world came

To one of sorrow。



We smile above you; but you fret;

We call you gentle names; and yet

Your cries redouble。

'Tis hard for little babes to prize

The tender love that underlies

A life of trouble。



And have you come from Heaven to earth?

That were a road of little mirth;

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;

But now you are so far from home

Repent the trial。

What! did you leave celestial bliss

To bless us with a daughter's kiss?

What self…denial!



Have patience for a little space;

You might have come to a worse place;

Fair Angel…rover。

No wonder now you would have stayed;

But hush your cries; my little maid;

The journey's over。



For; utter stranger as you are;

There yet are many hearts ajar

For your arriving;

And trusty friends and lovers true

Are waiting; ready…made for you;

Without your striving。



The earth is full of lovely things;

And if at first you miss your wings;

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



Cheeks as soft as July peaches;

Lips whose dewy scarlet teaches

Poppies paleness … round large eyes

Ever great with new surprise;

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