Beautiful babe, I gaze upon thy face
That bears no trace of earth: thy silk--soft cheek
Gladdens me even to tears, and thy full eyes
Blue as the midnight heaven;--what thoughts are they
That flit across thy being, now faint smiles
Awakening, now thy tiny fairy fingers
Weaving in restless play? above thee bends
An eye that drinks sweet pleasure from thine own,
A face of meaning wonderful and deep,
A form in every member full of love.
Once thou wert hidden in her painful side,
A boon unknown, a mystery and a fear;
Strange pangs she bore for thee; but He, whose name
Is everlasting Love, hath healed her pain,
And paid her suffering hours with living joy.

Thou gentle creature, now thine eyes are hid
In soft Elysian sleep: a holy calm
Hath settled on thee, and thy little hands
Are folded on thy breast. Thus could I look
For ever on thee, babe, with yearning heart
And strange unwonted pleasure. And thou too,
Sweet mother, hast been dallying with sleep
Till thou hast yielded; and I sit alone,
Alone, as if by Providence divine,
To watch in spirit, and in peaceful verse
To speak my thankfulness and purest joy.
--Some, with the gift of song, have prophesied
High duties for their offspring: and the words,
Fresh from the parent heart, have wrought a charm
Upon their childhood and their growing youth;
And life hath taken colour from their love.
--And thou, my little Alice, now so frail,
So new to the new world, in after--years
Shalt feel the wondrous tide of poesy
Rise in thy swelling breast; the happy earth,
And every living thing;--spring with its leaves,
And summer clad in flowers, and autumn flush
With ripe abundance, and the winter frost,
Shall lay the deep foundations of thy soul
In peace and purity. Thence thou shalt love
The tale of strange adventure;--watch the dance
Of moonlit fairies on the crisping grass,--
And nurse thy little joys unchecked and free
With rhymes antique and laughter--loving sports,
With wanton gambols in the sunny air,
And in the freshening bath of rocky streams.

But God hath knowledge of the years between:
Fair be thy lot, my first and early born;
The pledge and solace of our life--long love.