"Philip, My King" Cried him a greeting, and the lordly woods, Therefore the sea's swift fire is in his veins, And in his heart the glory of the sea; Therefore the storm-wind shall his comrade be, Inhabits all his pulses; he shall know The stress and splendor of the roaring gales, The creaking boughs shall croon him fairy tales, 19 Unknown "ON PARENT KNEES" ON parent knees, a naked new-born child, William Jones (1746-1794] "PHILIP, MY KING” "Who bears upon his baby brow the round and top of sovereignty.” Look at me with thy large brown eyes, Round whom the enshadowing purple lies Of babyhood's royal dignities. Lay on my neck thy tiny hand With love's invisible scepter laden; I am thine Esther to command Till thou shalt find a queen-handmaiden, O the day when thou goest a-wooing, When those beautiful lips are suing, For we that love, ah! we love so blindly, Up from thy sweet mouth,-up to thy brow, The spirit that there lies sleeping now Yet thy head needeth a circlet rarer, -A wreath not of gold, but palm. One day, Thou too must tread, as we trod, a way But march on, glorious, Rebels within thee, and foes without, As thou sittest at the feet of God victorious, Dinah Maria Mulock Craik [1826-1887] THE KING OF THE CRADLE DRAW back the cradle curtains, Kate, Let's see the monarch in his state, And view him while he's sleeping. He visits while he's dreaming. The King of the Cradle Monarch of pearly powder-puff, Asleep in nest so cosy, Shielded from breath of breezes rough By curtains warm and rosy: Though King of Coral, Lord of Bell, Ah, lucky tyrant! Happy lot! Who sweetly sing beside his cot, Will yonder dainty dimpled hand- Or, may I ask, will those blue eyes— And try to catch the Speaker's? Will that smooth brow o'er Hansard frown, Confused by lore statistic? Or will those lips e'er stir the town From pulpit ritualistic? Will e'er that tiny Sybarite Become an author noted? That little brain the world's delight, Though rosy, dimpled, plump, and round Though fragile, soft, and tender, Sometimes, alas! it may be found The thread of life is slender! 21 A little shoe, a little glove Affection never waning- Then does one chance, in fancy, hear, To consecrate it with a tear, And deck it with a flower. Who can predict the future, Kate— Who knows the solemn laws of fate, Who knows what lot awaits your boy Of happiness or sorrow? Sufficient for to-day is joy, Leave tears, Sweet, for to-morrow! Joseph Ashby-Sterry [18 THE FIRSTBORN So fair, so dear, so warm upon my bosom, Sleep on, my little bird, my lamb, my blossom; What is it God hath given me to cherish, Dear Lord, 'tis wonderful beyond all wonder, No Baby in the House Flesh of my flesh, and yet so subtly linking There life began, and here it links with heaven, And nearer to God's Throne. Seen, held in arms and clasped around so tightly,— Mine, Lord, all mine Thy gift and loving token. Mine by the chain of love with links unbroken, John Arthur Goodchild [1851 NO BABY IN THE HOUSE No baby in the house, I know, No grimy fingers to be washed; No stories to be told; 23 |