This little girl bends now to gently kiss
A picture of a teddy in a book;
I see her tenderly turn to her soft toys
And reach for them with adoring look.
I think of this child of eleven months
Whose mind does rapidly grow and change,
Who now seeks things to fondle and love
As she expands and extends heart’s range.
So my older mind now begins to think
That the progression of life should be
An endless journey towards care and love,
The beginning of which I in this infant see.
I think too of the vanity of age,
That awful rigidity of the mind,
Which, in its opinionated pride
Is so deceitfully and wilfully blind.
Sad that such vanities the canker grows
Of inflexible and arrogant pride,
So years that should be reflective and wise
Are where sad and ugly things reside.
Strange and complex is this human heart,
This generator of feeling sublime,
This mixture of selfish folly and love,
Where dark feelings too twist and entwine.
The human heart should be a place,
Where good and beautiful things abide,
Where the fruits of the spirit are nurtured
While breath in the body resides.
Great knowledge may be a gift to desire,
So too a brilliantly penetrating mind,
But more desirable than these is one
That is always teachable, patient and kind.
I look at Eleanor Miette as she smiles
And her tender heart shimmers and shines.
O let her be flexible, gentle and loving,
Give her feelings compassionate and refined.