Cooing, and laughter, and gurgles, and cries, Chaos of hopes, and of raptures, and sighs, Last year, like all years, the rose and the thorn; But heaven stooped under the roof on the morn Harriet Prescott Spofford [1835 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? Where did you get those eyes so blue? What makes the light in them sparkle and spin? Some of the starry spikes left in. Where did you get that little tear? Strange Lands What makes your forehead so smooth and high? What makes your cheek like a warm white rose? Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss? Where did you get this pearly ear? God spoke, and it came out to hear. Where did you get those arms and hands? Feet, where did you come, you darling things? How did they all just come to be you? But how did you come to us, you dear? God thought about you, and so I am here. George Macdonald [1824-1905] STRANGE LANDS WHERE do you come from, Mr. Jay? "From the land of Play, from the land of Play." And where can that be, Mr. Jay? "Far away-far away." Where do you come from, Mrs. Dove? "From the land of Love, from the land of Love." And how do you get there, Mrs. Dove? "Look above-look above." Where do you come from, Baby Miss? "From the land of Bliss, from the land of Bliss." And what is the way there, Baby Miss? "Mother's kiss-mother's kiss." Laurence Alma-Tadema [18 5 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,- Frederick Locker-Lampson (1821-1895] To a New-Born Child 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 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 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. 7 The earth is full of lovely things, And others, of a rarer kind Will grow upon your tender mind- Until you find that your exchange 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, Minutes filled with shadeless gladness, Minutes just as brimmed with sadness, Ever some new tiny notion Catching up of legs and arms, Throwings back and small alarms, Kickings up and straining risings, Mother's ever new surprisings, Hands all wants and looks all wonder At all things the heavens under, |