BABY'S AGE

by: Henry Timrod (1829-1867)

HE came with April blooms and showers;

We count her little life by flowers.

As buds the rose upon her cheek,

We choose a flower for every week.

A week of hyacinths, we say,

And one of heart's-ease, ushered May;

And then because two wishes met

Upon the rose and violet --
I liked the Beauty, Kate, the Nun --

The violet and the rose count one.

A week the apple marked with white;

A week the lily scored in light;

Red poppies closed May's happy moon,

And tulips this blue week in June.

Here end as yet the flowery links;

To-day begins the week of pinks;

But soon -- so grave, and deep, and wise

The meaning grows in Baby's eyes,

So very deep for Baby's age --

We think to date a week with sage!

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