Such beauty, in a small, pinched, frowning face,
Whose bones are elfin, hidden deep within,
Belied by the rich curve of cheek and chin
Into betraying your true human race;
It stills my breath, and whispers, in the quiet,
Of columbines, and wooded hillsides, deep
In ferny braes, where woodnymphs play, and sleep
In sylvan beauty, mornings wake to floral riot.
Lulled by Nature, miracles - that oft
Escape our notice - live in every child.
Their brows the breadth of wisdom, deep and wild,
Born within their natures strong yet soft
As thistledown is every baby's breath,
The cloud on which they're borne, from birth to death.