Poem for January 31, 2033

Go, pretty child, and bear this flower

Unto thy little Saviour;

And tell him, by that bud now blown,

He is the Rose of Sharon known.

When thou hast said so, stick it there

Upon his bib or stomacher;

And tell him, for good handsel too,

That thou hast brought a whistle new,

Made of a clean straight oaten reed,

To charm his cries at time of need;

Tell him, for coral, thou hast none,

But if thou hadst, he should have one;

But poor thou art, and known to be

Even as moneyless as he.

Lastly, if thou canst win a kiss

From those melifluous lips of his;--

Then never take a second on,

To spoil the first impression.