Poems (Curwen)/King Baby
King Baby.
King Baby rules supreme, Almost in every spot Where'er his bright eyes beam, Be it palace, hall, or cot.
His throne, his mother's knee; His sceptre of command—All bow to loyally— His own dear dimpled hand.
His crown, the shining curls Wreathing his brow of snow; Hi.s gems, the gleaming pearls Hidden in Cupid's bow.
His eyes, the sapphires bright; His lips, the rubies red; His soft cheeks, pink and white, The jewels' velvet bed.
His favours he bestows Impartially on all. He has no jealous foes, No cares of State to gall.
And so he takes his rest In sweet security—Cradled on mother's breast, Lulled by her lullaby.