Classic Poem

It's always blue in the baby's sky;
No matter how clouds are hurled,
The clear blue lens of the baby's eye
Makes heaven of all the world!

She hardly knew when she came to earth;
The buds and the voices kind
And the dappled light that met her birth
Seemed just what she left behind.

If she should vanish on snowy wing
On a June day fair and rich,
Hear first the robins, then angels, sing,
She'd wonder: “Now which is which?”

And what if angels, who came to greet
This waif from the world so new,
Should hear her murmur, so baby-sweet:
“My mamma's as pretty as you”?

It's always blue in the baby's sky;
No matter how clouds are hurled,
The clear blue lens of the baby's eye
Makes heaven of all the world!

She hardly knew when she came to earth;
The buds and the voices kind
And the dappled light that met her birth
Seemed just what she left behind.

If she should vanish on snowy wing
On a June day fair and rich,
Hear first the robins, then angels, sing,
She'd wonder: “Now which is which?”

And what if angels, who came to greet
This waif from the world so new,
Should hear her murmur, so baby-sweet:
“My mamma's as pretty as you”?