St. Charles City Republican intelligencer. [volume] (St. Charles City [Charles City], Iowa) 1857-1861, 1860-12-06

and on chin and check, dimpled as
though by the touch Of an angels
| finger To think that this round
neck of alabaster will be choked up
with a mans necktic, and those lily
bud feet will wear high hceled boots,
and ... Faugh | will not think of
it. | cannot realize that this fair
baby of minc--but three summers out
of Paradise, and still smiling in his
sleep remembering what the angels
said thcrc-shall ever be SO meta
morphoscd.
And yet the boys bahyhood is rap
idly flecting, and the sevcring of the
ringlets seems like cutting the golden
thread that links his infancy to his
childhood can call you baby"
but little longer. You bIuc-eycd elf.
you are already rcbellng at being
treated as one You had rather run,
now, after your painted wagon, than
lie in your rose-curtained crib. and
hear me sing of the baby whose era
die was the trcc.top, and whose nurse
was the wind. You will not wear
your corals, because grandpapa says
they are for babies. not for men you
had rather hunt hens nests than play
bo-pccp; and when | hold out my
arms to you, as you stand i'll the door
way, twirlinG your hat, you turn your
head on one side, like halt.tamcd
bird a-pcrch on ones finger, while
your dancing eyes seem to say,
" You'll see, you'll see I'll soon take
flight. Pretty soon you will not be-
lieve in the wolf that talked to Red
Riding hood, and will lose faith in
Santa Claus.
can not keep the bud in its sheath ;
| can not stay the little bark that slips
so rapidly down the hurrying stream
of life. Soon the rill will broaden in
to a river, and the realm of roses and
sunny skies will be passed. And the
gold of those rnglcts shall be dimmcd
by time, and the roses perchancc drop
from these pretty checks, and sorrow
and sin, it may be, cloud the clear,
blue heaven on these innocent eyes.
There am crying. How grandpa
would laugh if he caught me, and say
it was because | wanted the curls to
stay and make girl of his boy! See !
there are tears glistcning in those
sunny clusters of hair, like dew
among the golden blossomncd .iassa-
mine vines, and your eyes are locking
at me with widc-opcn wonder, and
your red lip beginning to culver with
ready sympathy. Oh, Robbie even
if the worst should come, and should
have to lay this bright head with its
iaoLa nf ,.,.l;....~-.l i"a'"" nmiar a
cofiin-id, and see the grass grow be-
tween my darling and the bosom he
once slept upon, should still thank
God for having given him, for having
crowned my life with the holy bless
ing Of motherhood /; for it is such lit
tie arms as these around our necks,
Robbie, that make us feel strong to
do, and suffer it is drawing such lit
tie heads as these close to our breasts
that keeps the hearts Of some Of lis
mothers from breaking.
There that is grandpapa's step
upon the stairs--and the task is Just
completed the little lamb is shorn.
Look at this bright heap of glistening
silk, such as Persian looms never
wovc into richest fabrics. Here is
golden fleece" for you, such as new
er tho lover Of Medea sought. lou
did not know that such a glittcring
wealth grew on your little hcad-dld
you, blue-eycd baby?
No, you must not clutch it with
those destructive fingers. Oh! grand
pa is calling you-lct him see his lit
tic man but leave me these--the
first curls cut from my baby's head.
| will put them away, to remind me,
in other days, Of his sweet, lost i'll
fancy.