I Saw O’er-Mist

I saw o’er-mist a baby’s eye The unformed tear that adults cry When overflowing heart with tune And words have made some secret meld. What feelings deep could have been torn From scanty years a child has held? Often has that hidden mist, Disguised by bow and discreet twist, Unbidden rushed into mine eye; But here to see it in a child’s... What wondrous lessons pass us by Who see not steps for endless miles? For I had thought that life’s deep scars From secret pain and secret wars Had wrest a tear from seas of pain And oozed unbidden, trembling, fleet. So, should I hear that tune again, I must control the bittersweet. What seas of pain do children know? Have children trudged life’s endless row? Do tears spring only from one’s strife? Ah no! That tear sprang from a joy. ‘Twas ode to beauty, hope and life; Drive not that tear from girl or boy.