Betrayed

When first, a new-born babe, he smiled,
Ere yet a name was given,
We knew not if the stranger child
Were more of earth or heaven.

His eyes, twin dewdrops, took the light
Of noonday's perfect blue:
His cheeks, young apple-blossoms white,
To warmer blushes grew.

His lips, — a rosy oracle,
And fragrant as a flower's, —
Like breathing petals, seemed to tell
Of sweeter thoughts than ours.

His name? — It is a balmy word
Of sound and silence wove;
We caught it when an Echo stirred
In sleep, and whispered — " Love. "
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