Shelley addresses a baby called Ianthe, pouring out his affection for her gentle beauty: her blue eyes, dimpled cheek, and delicate body. He admits that even a hard heart would soften at the sight of her, but his feeling deepens as he watches the child’s mother bending over her fitful sleep. The mother’s wakeful, loving gaze seems to fill the baby’s passive eyes with all the emotion the infant cannot yet express. Then, as Shelley studies the sleeping face, he catches faint traces of the mother — the same woman who carried this child — and those glimpses make the baby even more precious. The whole poem moves from a simple declaration of love for a child to something richer and more complex: the child becomes dearest when she most vividly mirrors her mother’s loveliness. The mood is quiet, intimate, and full of a tender wonder at the bond between mother and child.
To Ianthe — Summary
I love thee, Baby! for thine own sweet sake; Those azure eyes, that faintly dimpled cheek, Thy tender frame, so eloquently weak, Love in the sternest heart of hate might wake; But more when o'er thy fitful slumber bending Thy mother folds thee to her wakeful heart, Whilst love and pity, in her glances blending, All that thy passive eyes can feel impart: More, when some feeble lineaments of her, Who bore thy weight beneath her spotless bosom, As with deep love I read thy face, recur,-- More dear art thou, O fair and fragile blossom; Dearest when most thy tender traits express The image of thy mother's loveliness.