Edgar Albert Guest

20 August 1881 - 5 August 1959 / Birmingham / England

The Birth Of Love

I REMEMBER the first tiny cry that she gave
And my heart felt a thrill that it never had known,
And my face which a moment before had been grave
With the sunlight of love and of happiness shone;
And yet I am sure that I loved her before
She uttered the cry that delighted me so,
And I vow that the baby that romps on the floor
Was a part of my life in the long, long ago.

I remember the first gentle kiss I bestowed
On her little pink cheek, and recall that just then
That it seemed that my heart with its love overflowed,
A love I had known and was winning again;
That babe I am sure was no stranger to me,
For with her came love that no stranger could
bring, A love that's as deep as the depths of the sea,
As fresh and as pure as a cold mountain spring.

There she is on the floor with her cheeks all aglow,
With her eyes just as bright as the stars in the sky,
Has she, do you think, in my heart had to grow
To win me to love her? No, no, I reply!
I loved her the very first moment she came,
And looking back now I am certain also
That my heart with the love of her had been aflame
In the wonderful days of the long, long ago.
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