Child Angel, The
Lily-white her skin,
Violets are her eyes,
And their depths within,
Love, unconscious, lies;
Every ray that beams
From those orbs of blue,
Lights a world of dreams,
Tender, warm, and true.
Sweeter than the blooms
Of the spicy South,
Is the breath that comes
From her rosy mouth;
Never song of birds
Could delight me so,
As her baby words,
Murmured soft and low.
How the love-light plays
O'er her forehead fair
How the golden rays
Glorify her hair !
How the dimples small
Twinkle round her face!
How are fashioned all
To the law of grace!
When my darling's voice
With its glad refrain
Makes the air rejoice,
I forget my pain;
When its tender trills
Speak her love aright,
All my spirit thrills
With a keen delight.
Life is more divine,
With a fuller bliss,
When her lips to mine
Press their loving kiss.
I can better meet
Sorrow, pain, and care,
When her little feet
Patter round my chair.
More can I discern
In her guileless looks,
Better wisdom learn,
Than from wisest books.
God! accept my thanks
For this angel given,
Though the shining ranks
Miss her, up in heaven!
- Title
- Child Angel, The
- First Line
- Lily-white her skin,
- Creator
-
William Henry Burleigh
- Bibliographic Citation
- Burleigh, William Henry, and Celia Burleigh. Poems by William H. Burleigh. With a Sketch of his Life by Celia Burleigh. New York: Hurd and Houghton, 1871, 141-143.
- Date
- 1871
- Period
- Late
- Subject
- Infants
- Comments
- Cute but insubstantial
- Related Resource
- Part of a section in the 1871 volume entitled "Songs of Love and Home." Unclear if this is an editorial addition by Celia Burleigh, or the original intent of William H. Burleigh.
- Rating
- ★★
- Media
-
The Child Angel