Thou, Baby Innocence

The waking dream ; the shade as softly screening
The innocent sweetness of the opening bud.
Which future love and sager thought encloses,
As dewy moss, that swathes the swelling roses, —
Till thought peers forth, and murmurs break to words,
With human import in the notes of birds.
And thus, sweet maid ! thy voice, so blithe and clear,
Pours all the spring on thy good grandsire's ear.
Filling his kind heart with a new delight.
Which Homer may in ancient days have known.
Till love and joy create an inward sight,
And blindness shapes a fair world of its own.
Let mutability, then, work its will,
The child shall be the same sweet creature still.

Thou, Baby Innocence ! — unseen of me,
New bursting leaflet of the eternal tree,
That thou art sweet, is all I know of thee.
I know thou must be innocent and fair.
And dimpled soft as other babies are ;
But then — what impress doth thy beauty bear '?

Which most prevails, the mother or the sire ?
Are thine eyes like thy father's — made of fire,
Keen to discern, and dauntless to inquire ?

Or, like thy mother's, meek as summer eve,
Gracious in answer, open to receive,
Types of a soul most potent to believe ?

Is thy chin cleft as sunny side of peach ?
And have thy lips their own peculiar speech.
And murmurs that can chide, caress, beseech ?
Thy little hands are busy, — that I know ;
Thy tiny feet are fidging to and fro ;
But what's the inner mood that stirs them so ?
Not knowing what thou art, I deem it meet
To think thee whatsoe'er I think most sweet, —
A bud of promise — yet a babe complete.
Fain would I dive to find my infant self

In the unfathom'd ocean of the past ;
I can but find a sun-burnt prattling elf,
A froward urchin of four years at least.

The prettiest speech — 'tis in my mind engrain'd —
That first awaked me from my babyhood, —
'Twas a grave saw affectionately feign'd —
" We'll love you, little master, — if you're good."
Sweet babe, thou art not yet or good or bad,
Yet God is round thee, in thee, and above thee ;
We love, because we love thee, little lad,
And pray thou may'st be good — because we love thee.