Classic Poem

A PUFFY little pillow pad
That makes the mother's heart so glad,
When on her lips 't is gently pressed
To throttle speech and be caressed;
Till mamma thinks she 'd like to play
Love's cannibal most any day!
Ah, none but she can understand
How soft and sweet is baby's hand!

What greater joy can mother seek? —
A baby's hand on either cheek,
Two tender lips against her own
In sweetest kiss was ever known.
She will not sell? Go ask her why!
She cannot tell, nor you, nor I!
Not all the wealth at your command
Could buy that pink-tipped baby hand.

No limbs so weak, yet none so strong,
Nor voice that sings a sweeter song.
Although a tender little thing,
The babe is mightier than the king:
Great men and nations must give way;
The monarch would with baby play.
What wise men willed and monarchs planned
Has been upset by baby's hand.

The star of Bethlehem seemed to be
A flash-light from eternity,
To guide the wise men to the place
Where lay the hope of all the race;
It left a halo where it fell
Upon the babe Immanuel;
While all the host of glory scanned
A world redeemed by baby's hand!