A child of scarcely seven years,
Light haired, and fair as any lily;
With pure eyes ready in their tears
At chiding words, or glances chilly;
And sudden smiles, as inly bright
As lamps through alabaster shining,
With ready mirth, and fancies light,
Dashed with strange dreams of child-divining:
A child in all infantile grace,
Yet with the angel lingering in her face.
A curious, eager, questioning child,
Whose logic leads to naive conclusions;
Her little knowledge reconciled
To truth amid some odd confusions;
Yet credulous, and loving much
The problems hardest for her reason,
Placing her lovely faith on such,
And deeming disbelief a treason;
Doubting that which she can disprove,
And wisely trusting all the rest to love.
Such graces dwell beside your hearth,
And bless you in a priceless pleasure,
Leaving no sweeter spot on earth
Than that which holds your household treasure.
No entertainment ever yet
Had half the exquisite completeness —
The gladness without one regret,
You gather from your darling's sweetness:
An angel sits beside the hearth
Where e're an innocent child is found on earth.