Classic Poem

I

A BABY'S feet, like seashells pink,
— Might tempt, should heaven see meet,
An angel's lips to kiss, we think,
A baby's feet.

Like rose-hued sea-flowers toward the heat
— They stretch and spread and wink
Their ten soft buds that part and meet.

No flower-bells that expand and shrink
— Gleam half so heavenly sweet,
As shine on life's untrodden brink
A baby's feet.

II

A baby's hands, like rosebuds furled,
— Where yet no leaf expands,
Ope if you touch, though close upcurled, —
A baby's hands.

Then, even as warriors grip their brands
— When battle's bolt is hurled,
They close, clenched hard like tightening bands.

No rosebuds yet by dawn impearled
— Match, even in loveliest lands,
The sweetest flowers in all the world, —
A baby's hands.

III

A baby's eyes, ere speech begin,
— Ere lips learn words or sighs,
Bless all things bright enough to win
A baby's eyes.

Love, while the sweet thing laughs and lies,
— And sleep flows out and in,
Sees perfect in them Paradise!

Their glance might cast out pain and sin,
— Their speech make dumb the wise,
By mute glad godhead felt within
A baby's eyes.