| |
| NOW in thy dazzled, half-oped eye, | |
| They curled nose and lip awry, | |
| Uphoisted arms and noddling head, | |
| And little chin with crystal spread, | |
| Poor helpless thing! what do I see | 5 |
| That I should sing of thee? | |
| |
| From thy poor tongue no accents come, | |
| Which can but rub thy toothless gum: | |
| Small understanding boasts thy face; | |
| Thy shapeless limbs nor step nor grace: | 10 |
| A few short words thy feats may tell; | |
| And yet I love thee well. | |
| |
| When wakes the sudden bitter shriek, | |
| And redder swells thy little cheek; | |
| When rattled keys thy woes beguile, | 15 |
| And through thine eyelids gleams the smile; | |
| Still for thy weakly self is spent | |
| Thy little silly plaint. | |
| |
| But when thy friends are in distress, | |
| Thou’lt laugh and chuckle ne’ertheless; | 20 |
| Nor with kind sympathy be smitten | |
| Though all are sad but thee and kitten; | |
| Yet, puny varlet that thou art, | |
| Thou twitchest at the heart. | |
| |
| Thy smooth round cheek so soft and warm; | 25 |
| Thy pinky hand and dimpled arm; | |
| Thy silken locks that scantly peep, | |
| With gold-tipp’d ends, where circles deep, | |
| Around thy neck in harmless grace | |
| So soft and sleekly hold their place, | 30 |
| Might harder hearts with kindness fill, | |
| And gain our right good will. | |
| |
| Each passing clown bestows his blessing, | |
| Thy mouth is worn with old wives’ kissing: | |
| E’en lighter looks the gloomy eye | 35 |
| Of surly sense when thou art by; | |
| And yet, I think, whoe’er they be, | |
| They love thee not like me. | |
| |
| Perhaps when time shall add a few | |
| Short months to thee, thou’lt love me too; | 40 |
| And after that, through life’s long way. | |
| Become my sure and cheering stay: | |
| Wilt care for me and be my hold, | |
| When I am weak and old. | |
| |
| Thou’lt listen to my lengthen’d tale, | 45 |
| And pity me when I am frail— | |
| —But see! the sweepy swimming fly, | |
| Upon the window takes thine eye. | |
| Go to thy little senseless play; | |
| Thou dost not heed my lay. | 50 |
| |
