COMPARISONS

Child, when they say that others

Have been or are like you,

Babes fit to be your brothers,

Sweet human drops of dew,

Bright fruit of mortal mothers,

What should one say or do?

We know the thought is treason,

We feel the dream absurd;

A claim rebuked of reason,

That withers at a word:

For never shone the season

That bore so blithe a bird.

Some smiles may seem as merry,

Some glances gleam as wise,

From lips as like a cherry

And scarce less gracious eyes;

Eyes browner than a berry,

Lips red as morning's rise.

But never yet rang laughter

So sweet in gladdened ears

Through wall and floor and rafter

As all this household hears

And rings response thereafter

Till cloudiest weather clears.

When those your chosen of all men,

Whose honey never cloys,

Two lights whose smiles enthrall men,

Were called at your age boys,

Those mighty men, while small men,

Could make no merrier noise.

Our Shakespeare, surely, daffed not

More lightly pain aside

From radiant lips that quaffed not

Of forethought's tragic tide:

Our Dickens, doubtless, laughed not

More loud with life's first pride.

The dawn were not more cheerless

With neither light nor dew

Than we without the fearless

Clear laugh that thrills us through:

If ever child stood peerless,

Love knows that child is you.