My long first year of perfect love, <br />My deep new dream of joy; She was a little chubby girl, <br />I was a chubby boy. <br /> <br />I wore a crimson frock, white drawers, <br />A belt, a crown was on it; <br />She wore some angel's kind of dress <br />And such a tiny bonnet, <br /> <br />Old-fashioned, but the soft brown hair Would never keep its place; <br />A little maid with violet eyes, <br />And sunshine in her face. <br /> <br />O my child-queen, in those lost days <br />How sweet was daily living! <br />How humble and how proud I grew, <br />How rich by merely giving! <br /> <br />She went to school, the parlour-maid <br />Slow stepping to her trot; <br />That parlour-maid, ah, did she feel <br />How lofty was her lot! <br />Across the road I saw her lift <br />My Queen, and with a sigh <br />I envied Raleigh; my new coat <br />Was hung a peg too high. <br /> <br />A hoard of never-given gifts <br />I cherished, priceless pelf; <br />'Twas two whole days ere I devoured <br />That peppermint myself. <br /> <br />In Church I only prayed for her <br />'O God bless Lucy Hill;' <br />Child, may His angels keep their arms <br />Ever around you still. <br /> <br />But when the hymn came round, with heart <br />That feared some heart's surprising <br />Its secret sweet, I climbed the seat <br />'Mid rustling and uprising; <br /> <br />And there against her mother's arm <br />The sleeping child was leaning, <br />While far away the hymn went on, <br />The music and the meaning. <br /> <br />Oh I loved with more of pain <br />Since then, with more of passion, <br />Loved with the aching in my love <br />After our grown-up fashion; <br /> <br />Yet could I almost be content <br />To lose here at your feet <br />A year or two, you murmuring elm, <br />To dream a dream so sweet.<br /><br />Edward Dowden<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/first-love-100/
