THEFIRST TOOTH

THE FIRST TOOTHTHEFIRST TOOTH

THE FIRST TOOTHTHEFIRST TOOTH

THEFIRST TOOTH

I

SISTER

Throughthe house what busy joyJust because the infant boyHas a tiny tooth to show!I have got a double row,All as white and all as small;Yet no one cares for mine at all.He can say but half a word,Yet that single sound’s preferr’dTo all the words that I can sayIn the longest summer day.He cannot walk; yet if he putWith mimic motion out his foot,As if he thought he were advancing,It’s prized more than my best dancing.

Throughthe house what busy joyJust because the infant boyHas a tiny tooth to show!I have got a double row,All as white and all as small;Yet no one cares for mine at all.He can say but half a word,Yet that single sound’s preferr’dTo all the words that I can sayIn the longest summer day.He cannot walk; yet if he putWith mimic motion out his foot,As if he thought he were advancing,It’s prized more than my best dancing.

Throughthe house what busy joyJust because the infant boyHas a tiny tooth to show!I have got a double row,All as white and all as small;Yet no one cares for mine at all.He can say but half a word,Yet that single sound’s preferr’dTo all the words that I can sayIn the longest summer day.He cannot walk; yet if he putWith mimic motion out his foot,As if he thought he were advancing,It’s prized more than my best dancing.

Throughthe house what busy joy

Just because the infant boy

Has a tiny tooth to show!

I have got a double row,

All as white and all as small;

Yet no one cares for mine at all.

He can say but half a word,

Yet that single sound’s preferr’d

To all the words that I can say

In the longest summer day.

He cannot walk; yet if he put

With mimic motion out his foot,

As if he thought he were advancing,

It’s prized more than my best dancing.

BROTHER

Sister, I know you jesting are,Yet O! of jealousy beware.

Sister, I know you jesting are,Yet O! of jealousy beware.

Sister, I know you jesting are,Yet O! of jealousy beware.

Sister, I know you jesting are,

Yet O! of jealousy beware.

(Illustration)

If the smallest seed should beIn your mind, of jealousy,It will spring and it will shootTill it bear the baneful fruit.I remember you, my dear,Young as is this infant here.There was not a tooth of thoseYour pretty even ivory rows,But as anxiously was watch’dTill it burst its shell new-hatch’dAs if it a phoenix were,Or some other wonder rare.So when you began to walk—So when you began to talk—As now, the same encomiums pass’d’Tis not fitting this should lastLonger than our infant days;A child is fed with milk and praise.

If the smallest seed should beIn your mind, of jealousy,It will spring and it will shootTill it bear the baneful fruit.I remember you, my dear,Young as is this infant here.There was not a tooth of thoseYour pretty even ivory rows,But as anxiously was watch’dTill it burst its shell new-hatch’dAs if it a phoenix were,Or some other wonder rare.So when you began to walk—So when you began to talk—As now, the same encomiums pass’d’Tis not fitting this should lastLonger than our infant days;A child is fed with milk and praise.

If the smallest seed should beIn your mind, of jealousy,It will spring and it will shootTill it bear the baneful fruit.I remember you, my dear,Young as is this infant here.There was not a tooth of thoseYour pretty even ivory rows,But as anxiously was watch’dTill it burst its shell new-hatch’dAs if it a phoenix were,Or some other wonder rare.So when you began to walk—So when you began to talk—As now, the same encomiums pass’d’Tis not fitting this should lastLonger than our infant days;A child is fed with milk and praise.

If the smallest seed should be

In your mind, of jealousy,

It will spring and it will shoot

Till it bear the baneful fruit.

I remember you, my dear,

Young as is this infant here.

There was not a tooth of those

Your pretty even ivory rows,

But as anxiously was watch’d

Till it burst its shell new-hatch’d

As if it a phoenix were,

Or some other wonder rare.

So when you began to walk—

So when you began to talk—

As now, the same encomiums pass’d

’Tis not fitting this should last

Longer than our infant days;

A child is fed with milk and praise.

(Illustration)


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