With pretty fancies, such as ne’er before
Took form in human mind—as if they knew
The glories of the world, or false or true.
And with their careless-clutching fingers tore
From Miss Pandora’s box the bitter store
(If pleased) and handed out the sweets to you.
O baby lips, whose lispings we repeat,
O baby tongue, so eager in attaining
The power through which your wishes may be heard;
May you remain forever pure and sweet,