This poem of a young mother’s delight at her baby girl’s beauty comes from the 1920s. What romanticism: Lord Byron done proud! The author is Susannah Brooks Overton, and her daughter, the little girl of the lyrics, is Sarah Frances Overton Partridge. Sarah died in April this year. Her family printed this poem in the bulletin for the memorial service. Thanks to them for permission to publish here.
Sarah’s family and Piedmont Pine Coffins come together in the 2015 Lisa Sorg documentary A Sense of the Fitness of Things.
From my window, looking south,
Lies a meadow, near the house.
Flowers and grass and trees are there,
Birds are winging through the air.
A little brooklet singing there
Lends a charm and beauty rare.
Oft there comes into this view,
Far surpassing every hue,
Precious blue-eyed baby fair,
Come to gather flowers there.
Now I see her stooping where
Buttercups and daisies are;
Now she’s playing hide and seek,
Where the timid violets peep.
Now with bold agility
Swinging on the dogwood tree.
Woodland fairy, butterfly,
Cherub gently floating by!
Humming bird or honey bee
In and out ‘mong flower and tree.
All of these, sweet baby mine,
As compared to radiance thine,
Are as clouds to bright sunshine.
Could I paint thee as thou art
Stamped in love upon my heart.
All within the realms of art,
All that Masters ever wrought
To thy picture would be naught.
Happy childhood, free from care;
Flower of childhood playing there,
Finding all of happiness
In a flower to caress.