See that apple, ripe and ruddy, There on yonder lofty shelf In the corner of my study I can scarcely reach, myself. Only yesterday I bought it, Tempted by its rosy glow; Though my little ones besought it, 'T was intended just for show. They are babes so frail and tender, They're so innocent and young; Who could but be their defender 'Gainst malicious slander's tongue! On the cheek of yonder apple There's a scar that lately came. Oh for wisdom fit to grapple With the question—Who's to blame? There are little tooth-marks in it, Yet it has not moved at all. I was absent scarce a minute— They're so innocent and small! Can it be that spirits haunt us, Leaving tooth-marks here and there? Playing idle pranks to taunt us, Marking footprints on a chair? They are babes so frail and tender, Far too wee for sin or guile; Who could but be their defender? I must ponder for a while. |