When first, a new-born babe, he smiled, Ere yet a name was given, We knew not if the stranger child Were more of earth or heaven. His eyes, twin dewdrops, took the light Of noonday's perfect blue: His cheeks, young apple-blossoms white, To warmer blushes grew. His lips -- a rosy oracle, And fragrant as a flower's -- Like breathing petals, seemed to tell Of sweeter thoughts than ours. His name? -- It is a balmy word Of sound and silence wove; We caught it when an echo stirred In sleep and whispered -- "Love." |