When the baby's eyes are blue,
Think we of a summer day,
Violets, and dancing rills.
When the baby's eyes are gray,
Doves and dawn are brought to mind.
Brown--of gentle fawns we dream,
And ripe nuts in shady woods.
Black--of midnight skies that gleam
With bright stars. But blue or gray,
Black or brown, like flower or star,
Sweeter eyes can never be
To mamma than baby's are.
[Begun in No. 11 of HARPER'S YOUNG PEOPLE, January 13.]