| |
| CHEEKS as soft as July peaches, | |
| Lips whose dewy scarlet teaches | |
| Poppies paleness—round large eyes | |
| Ever great with new surprise, | |
| Minutes fill’d with shadeless gladness, | 5 |
| Minutes just as brimm’d with sadness, | |
| Happy smiles and wailing cries, | |
| Crows and laughs and tearful eyes, | |
| Lights and shadows swifter born | |
| Than on wind-swept Autumn corn, | 10 |
| Ever some new tiny notion | |
| Making every limb all motion— | |
| Catching up of legs and arms, | |
| Throwings back and small alarms, | |
| Clutching fingers—straightening jerks, | 15 |
| Twining feet whose each toe works, | |
| Kickings up and straining risings, | |
| Mother’s ever new surprisings, | |
| Hands all wants and looks all wonder | |
| At all things the heavens under, | 20 |
| Tiny scorns of smil’d reprovings | |
| That have more of love than lovings, | |
| Mischiefs done with such a winning | |
| Archness, that we prize such sinning, | |
| Breakings dire of plates and glasses, | 25 |
| Graspings small at all that passes, | |
| Pullings off of all that ’s able | |
| To be caught from tray or table; | |
| Silences—small meditations, | |
| Deep as thoughts of cares for nations, | 30 |
| Breaking into wisest speeches, | |
| In a tongue that nothing teaches, | |
| All the thoughts of whose possessing | |
| Must be wooed to light by guessing; | |
| Slumbers—such sweet angel-seemings, | 35 |
| That we ’d ever have such dreamings, | |
| Till from sleep we see thee breaking, | |
| And we ’d always have thee waking; | |
| Wealth for which we know no measure, | |
| Pleasure high above all pleasure, | 40 |
| Gladness brimming over gladness, | |
| Joy in care—delight in sadness, | |
| Loveliness beyond completeness, | |
| Sweetness distancing all sweetness, | |
| Beauty all that beauty may be— | 45 |
| That ’s May Bennett, that ’s my baby. | |
| |
