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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
TO WINIFRED (AGED EIGHTEEN MONTHS), by CHARLES WHITWORTH WYNNE
First Line: The angels alone might tell you
Last Line: The sorrow it needs must find!
Alternate Author Name(s): Cayzer, Charles
Subject(s): Angels; Babies; Infants
First Line: The angels alone might tell you
Last Line: The sorrow it needs must find!
Alternate Author Name(s): Cayzer, Charles
Subject(s): Angels; Babies; Infants
THE Angels alone might tell you
The Land whence my Lady came,
Of the days she took to travel
Over a sea aflame.
She came with the early Dawn
Before the stars were set,
The palest of roseate streamers
Aglow on her coverlet.
But how shall I tell of the wonder,
The joy that has come to me,
In the light of the bluest of eyes
That ever smiled out of the sea?
Such treasure of golden floss,
In strands of drifting ore!
'Twas spun by a faery hand
By the light of faery lore.
Her smile is a flash of the dawn
Before the morning breaks:
'Twould scatter the dullest clouds
That ever the East awakes!
Such tiny hands and feet!
Such mimicking words and ways!
And—oh, for that childish prattle,
When the heart, itself, betrays!
For to thee, thou little Innocent!
The world cannot help but be kind.
But the larger the heart, the greater
The sorrow it needs must find!
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