ON SEEING A BEAUTIFUL BOY AT PLAY.

Down the green slope he bounded. Raven curls

From his white shoulders by the winds were swept,

And the clear color of his sunny cheek

Was bright with motion. Through his open lips

Shone visibly a delicate line of pearl,

Like a white vein within a rosy shell,

And his dark eye's clear brilliance, as it lay

Beneath his lashes, like a drop of dew

Hid in the moss, stole out as covertly

As starlight from the edging of a cloud.

I never saw a boy so beautiful.

His step was like the stooping of a bird,

And his limbs melted into grace like things

Shaped by the wind of summer. He was like

A painter's fine conception — such an one

As he would have of Ganymede, and weep

Upon his pallet that he could not win

The vision to his easel. Who could paint

The young and shadowless spirit? Who could chain

The visible gladness of a heart that lives,

Like a glad fountain, in the eye of light,

With an unbreathing pencil? Nature's gift

Has nothing that is like it. Sun and stream,

And the new leaves of June, and the young lark

That flees away into the depths of heaven,

Lost in his own wild music, and the breath

Of springtime, and the summer eve, and noon

In the cool autumn, are like fingers swept

Over sweet-toned affections — but the joy

That enters to the spirit of a child

Is deep as his young heart: his very breath,

The simple sense of being, is enough

To ravish him, and like a thrilling touch

He feels each moment of his life go by.

Beautiful, beautiful childhood! with a joy

That like a robe is palpable, and flung

Out by your every motion! delicate bud

Of the immortal flower that will unfold

And come to its maturity in heaven!

I weep your earthly glory.‘ Tis a light

Lent to the new born spirit that goes out

With the first idle wind. It is the leaf

Fresh flung upon the river, that will dance

Upon the wave that stealeth out its life,

Then sink of its own heaviness. The face

Of the delightful earth will to your eye

Grow dim; the fragrance of the many flowers

Be noticed not, and the beguiling voice

Of nature in her gentleness will be

To manhood's senseless ear inaudible.

I sigh to look upon thy face, young boy!