I Saw O’er-Mist

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.