Poems (Blake)/To Edith
TO EDITH.
Darling little birthday maiden, Flower of autumn time,With what dainty wishes laden Shall I weave my rhyme;What of all the world has on it Seems most fair and dearTo gift the eyes that look upon it Wise with one short year?
Little one, life opens kindly, Full of light and fair,Though you take it all so blindly, Sitting smiling there;Not a mesh that love could sever Tangled round thy feet,—Could we keep it so forever,— Hazel eyes, my sweet!
Who can tell how many changes Wait beside the way,As life's onward pathway ranges Farther day by day; Yet whatever time may measure Has its part to teach,When the soul, through pain and pleasure, Gathers wealth front each.
So, though all a mother's longing Waits with passion fond,With a thousand wishes thronging The dim years beyond,Still I think from all God's giving Naught more blest could fallThan the golden gift of living, Gathering strength from all.
Ah! you scarce see where I'm drifting, Filled with vague surprise,To my face that pure brow lifting, And those hazel eyes!Do not seek to know, my treasure,— Wait, in peace divine;All too soon life's pain and pleasure Reach us, baby mine
Could I read the years before thee! Would I if I could?Knowing still God watches o'er thee, And that He is good. Rather let me clasp thee, holding All the years at bay,In my life thy life enfolding As I do to-day.
So my little birthday maiden, Flower of autumn time,With the heart's best wishes laden Take the halting rhyme.All the gifts in Time's full coffers Piled before thy feet,Show not half the love it offers,— Hazel eyes, my sweet.