Classic Poem

While we are still drowsing
In stillness complete,
My wee one is rousing;
Good morning, my sweet!

She rustles and flutters
In white little bed —
A twittering she utters
Like birds overhead.

As yet she 's but making
The soft chirping sound
Which stirs in the waking
Green valleys around.

Here wee lips endeavor
A song without word,
The prettiest ever
That dadda has heard.

Her cheek from the cover
She boldly uprears,
Her chubby chin over
The blanket appears.

A sunbeam now plays on
The window, and glows,
Then kisses and strays on
The vase with its rose.

All rapt she is gazing
With eyes round and blue —
To her 't is amazing
And wondrously new.

The light so beguiles and
Attracts her and charms,
She sunnily smiles and
Puts up her small arms.

She dimples, our baby,
For sunbeam and rose —
She 's seeing more, maybe,
Than we can suppose.

As day comes, adorning
The sky with its hue,
She smiles on the morning,
On life she smiles too.
â?¦

Ah, when the snow flies, dear,
When Autumn blows chill,
May ever thine eyes, dear,
See wonder there still!

To thee be it given,
Whate'er be thy dole,
To smile up at heaven,
Thou wakening soul!