17 MAY 1890, Page 17

POETRY.

BABY.

A LITTLE form so dainty small, So soft, so tender, and so dear ; A little voice whose helpless call Is music to a mother's ear ; A little pulse of delicate breath, Like Eve's when Zephyr whispereth ;- A little arm that nerveless lies ;

Red, curling fingers, tiniest things ; Two round, blue, upward-gazing eyes,

All filled with silent wonderings, That, as the kiss of Heaven's light bids, Now ape, now close their downy lids ;- A little head, so smooth and white, Pert, rosy mouth and fairy chin, And cheeks all rounded to the sight, Save where a dimple draws them in ;- All in one tiny frame enwove, As light as Laughter, soft as Love.