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Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into bonds and bands.

Feet, whence did you come, you darling things? From the same box as the cherubs' wings.

How did they all just come to be you?
God thought about me, and so I grew.

But how did you come to us, you dear?
God thought about you, and so I am here.

GEORGE MACDONALD.

I'

TO A CHILD.

F by any device or knowledge

The rosebud its beauty could know, It would stay a rosebud for ever,

Nor into its fulness grow.

And if thou could'st know thy own sweetness,

O little one, perfect and sweet, Thou would'st be a child for ever, Completer whilst incomplete.

FRANCIS TURNER PALGRAVE.

H

PARIS A MACON.

SAW, I saw the lovely child,
I watched her by the way,

I learnt her gestures sweet and wild,
Her loving eyes and gay.

Her name?-I heard not, nay, nor care,

Enough it was for me

To find her innocently fair

And delicately free.

Oh cease and go ere dreams be done,

Nor trace the angel's birth,

Nor find the paradisal one

A blossom of the earth!

Thus it is with our subtlest joys,—
How quick the soul's alarm!
How lightly deed or word destroys
That evanescent charm!

It comes unbidden, comes unbought,
Unfettered flees away,—

His swiftest and his sweetest thought

Can never poet say.

FREDERICK MYERS.

UNREFLECTING CHILDHOOD.

MT is, indeed, a little while

Since you were born, my happy pet; Your future beckons with a smile,

Your bygones don't exist as yet.

Is all the world with beauty rife?
Are you a little bird that sings
Her simple gratitude for life,
And lovely things?

The ocean, and the waning moons,
And starry skies, and starry dells,
And winter sport, and golden Junes,
Art, and divinest Beauty-spells:

Festa and song, and frolic wit,

And banter, and domestic mirth,They all are ours!-dear child, is it A pleasant earth?

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