TE little hands! Pink little feet! Dimpled all over, Sweet, sweet, sweet! What dost thou wail for? The unknown? the unseen? The ills that are coming, The joys that have been? Cling to me closer, Closer and closer,
Till the pain that is purer Hath banish’d the grosser. Drain, drain at the stream, love, Thy hunger is freeing, That was born in a dream, love, Along with thy being! Little fingers that feel For their home on my breast, Little lips that appeal For their nurture, their rest!
Why, why dost thou weep, dear? Nay, stifle thy cries, Till the dew of thy sleep, dear, Lies soft on thine eyes.
