Little dimpled form and face,
Folded now in love's embrace,
Who thy horoscope can trace?

Eyes as darkly, brightly blue
As twin pansies, wet with dew,
When the morning sun shines through.

Baby brow, so smooth and fair,
Fringed about with silken hair;
Dainty lips, like rosebuds rare.

Tiny, tender hands and feet,
White as lilies and as sweet;
Little heart that has not beat.

One whole year among the flowers,
Summer sunshine, winter showers,
Of this shadowy land of ours.

Where thy future lot shall be,
What the years will bring to thee,
Nor sage nor sibyl can foresee.

Though thy pathway may be fair,
None are free from toil and care;
Every soul has much to bear.

Last fair scion of thy race,
Though thine eyes may never trace
Love-light on thy father's face,

Happy that thou art his son,
Strive to do as he has done,
And achieve the meed he won.

Bearer of the same sweet name,
Heir to his unsullied fame,
More than this thou scarce could'st claim.

Not in seeming, but in sooth,
Lay the cornerstone of-Truth,
In the building of thy youth.

Learn whatever man may learn;
Speech embody, thought discern,
Where the lamps of science burn:

That thy manhood may be grand,
Not as builded on the sand,
But a tower of strength to stand.

Stand in majesty and might
For the good, the true, the right,
Guiding others by its light.

Store thy mind with treasures rare;
Train thy heart and hand to bear;
Work awaits thee everywhere.

There are lands no eye hath seen;
Seas where man has never been;
Boundless harvest fields to glean.

There are songs no lip has sung;
Facts untaught by human tongue;
Mines of golden thought unsprung.

There are planes and heights sublime,
Where no foot has dared to climb,
In the metes and bounds of time.

There is warp and woof to weave;
Truth from error to retrieve;
Much for brave hearts to achieve.

Much to do in word and deed,
By the sowers of good seed;
Men of whom the world has need.

Little, dainty human flower,
Shielded now from sun and shower,
Child of love in love's own bower;

These strange words I write to thee,
All unbidden came to me,
In poetic prophecy.

Thou may'st find their meaning when,
Eloquent of tongue and pen,
Thou shalt help thy fellow-men.

Help them to receive their sight
Who are walking in the night
Or in dim, uncertain light.