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Poem by Henry Timrod


Baby's Age


She came with April blooms and showers;
We count her little life by flowers.
As buds the rose upon her cheek,
We choose a flower for every week.
A week of hyacinths, we say,
And one of heart's-ease, ushered May;
And then because two wishes met
Upon the rose and violet
I liked the Beauty, Kate, the Nun
The violet and the rose count one.
A week the apple marked with white;
A week the lily scored in light;
Red poppies closed May's happy moon,
And tulips this blue week in June.
Here end as yet the flowery links;
To-day begins the week of pinks;
But soonso grave, and deep, and wise
The meaning grows in Baby's eyes,
So VERY deep for Baby's age
We think to date a week with sage!



Henry Timrod


Henry Timrod's other poems:
  1. To Thee
  2. Two Portraits
  3. The Cotton Boll
  4. The Stream is Flowing from the West
  5. The Arctic Voyager

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