Watching a baby run barefoot, the speaker is caught by how delicate and musical her movement seems. Her little white feet become flowers nodding in the wind, ripples on water, a robin’s song, and two white butterflies pausing in a bloom. The shifting comparisons suggest that no single image can quite hold the child’s quick, lovely play. In the second half, the speaker’s wish becomes intimate: he longs for the baby to come close so he can hold her feet in his hands. There they turn from distant images into something cool like syringa buds, firm and silken like young peony petals. The mood is warm, protective, and almost reverent, full of delight in small, fleeting movements and the softness of early childhood.
A Baby Running Barefoot — Summary
When the bare feet of the baby beat across the grass The little white feet nod like white flowers in the wind, They poise and run like ripples lapping across the water; And the sight of their white play among the grass Is like a little robin's song, winsome, Or as two white butterflies settle in the cup of one flower For a moment, then away with a flutter of wings.
I long for the baby to wander hither to me Like a wind-shadow wandering over the water, So that she can stand on my knee With her little bare feet in my hands, Cool like syringa buds, Firm and silken like pink young peony flowers.