A BABY RUNNING BAREFOOTBy D.

H.

LawrenceWHEN the bare feet of the baby beat across the grassThe little white feet nod like white flowers in the wind,They poise and run like ripples lapping across the water;And the sight of their white play among the grassIs like a little robin’s song, winsome,Or as two white butterflies settle in the cup of one flowerFor a moment, then away with a flutter of wings.

I long for the baby to wander hither to meLike a wind-shadow wandering over the water,So that she can stand on my kneeWith her little bare feet in my hands,Cool like syringa buds,Firm and silken like pink young peony flowers.

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