IV.
BLUE-EYED the boy was, scarcely had he spanned
More years than dimpled Cupid doth possess,
Almost a baby s was the tiny hand
Laid on his mother s neck in soft caress;
Vale-lilies are not purer than the shell
That cradled the fresh spirit yet more fair,
Meet spirit young cherubic choirs to swell
That sing above us in diviner air,
Ah, the faint blush of morning on the cheek,
The rings of misty gold upon the brow,
The bloom ineffable, the tints that speak
Sadly of what we had but have not now,
Yea ; twice have we possessed, to have and hold
A few fleet years, this infantine sweet grace,
In our own substance first, the cloudy gold
Of curls, the snow and peach-bloom in the face ;
Our selves were nested once, safe, safe from harm,
Changing, but waking joy for dreams of bliss,
Our world a tender breast and cradling arm,
Our heaven a laughing sweet Madonna-kiss ;
There is no visage scarred with miser-age,
Foul with excesses, sodden-sour with wine,
That was not once a fair unsullied page,
Meet tablature for gravings high and fine,
Hast spoiled the canvas, painter! hast awry
The marble dinted, sculptor ? blurred the white
Pure vellum, scribe! Alas, tis vain to try
Eetouching that which God could not make right!
This beauty of the youngeyed cherubim
