IV.

Baby, baby true,

Man, whate'er he do,

May deceive not you.

Smiles whose love is guile,

Worn a flattering while,

Win from you no smile.

One, the smile alone

Out of love's heart grown,

Ever wins your own.

Man, a dunce uncouth,

Errs in age and youth:

Babies know the truth.

A Midsummer Holiday and Other Poems · 第 85 / 129 题