A baby's hands, like rosebuds furled <br /> Whence yet no leaf expands, <br /> Ope if you touch, though close upcurled, <br />A baby's hands. <br /> Then, fast as warriors grip their brands <br /> When battle's bolt is hurled, <br /> They close, clenched hard like tightening bands. <br /> No rosebuds yet by dawn impearled <br /> Match, even in loveliest lands, <br />The sweetest flowers in all the world-- <br /> A baby's hands. <br /> <br /> <br />III <br /> <br /> A baby's eyes, ere speech begin, <br /> Ere lips learn words or sighs, <br />Bless all things bright enough to win <br />A baby's eyes. <br /> Love, while the sweet thing laughs and lies, <br /> And sleep flows out and in, <br /> Sees perfect in them Paradise. <br /> Their glance might cast out pain and sin, <br /> Their speech make dumb the wise, <br /> By mute glad godhead felt within <br /> A baby's eyes.<br /><br />Algernon Charles Swinburne<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/tude-r-aliste-excerpts/
