Benjamin Penhallow Shillaber (1814–1890)

IT smiles! Around its dimpling mouth see play

The first glad token of a dawning love,

Like the bright glow of newly-wakening day,

Or some new glory breaking from above.

It smiles! O rapture! and the mother’s heart

Beats with quick pleasure its bright gleam to see,

Springing from dawning consciousness, whose part

In after years her crowning joy may be.

There ’s not a bright creation under heaven,

There ’s not a pure in heaven or in earth,

There ’s not an ecstasy to mortals given,

There ’s not a thing of most exalted worth,

Can, in a mother’s plenitude of joy,

Excel that first smile of her darling boy!