Poem by Henry Timrod

Baby's Age

She came with April blooms and showers;
We count her little life by flowers.
As buds the rose upon her cheek,
We choose a flower for every week.
A week of hyacinths, we say,
And one of heart's-ease, ushered May;
And then because two wishes met
Upon the rose and violet—
I liked the Beauty, Kate, the Nun—
The violet and the rose count one.
A week the apple marked with white;
A week the lily scored in light;
Red poppies closed May's happy moon,
And tulips this blue week in June.
Here end as yet the flowery links;
To-day begins the week of pinks;
But soon—so grave, and deep, and wise
The meaning grows in Baby's eyes,
So VERY deep for Baby's age—
We think to date a week with sage!

1. Carmen Triumphale
2. The Unknown Dead
3. Vox et Præterea Nihil
4. Hymn Sung at the Consecration of Magnolia Cemetery, Charleston, S.C.
5. Sonnets. 12. What Gossamer Lures Thee Now? What Hope, What Name

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