Classic Poem

At sixteen months, when they start to walk.
And a few brief words is their sum of talk,
When their smile is a marvelous joy to see
And they want to ride on their daddy's knee,
When you get tired but they never do—
For everything in this world is new—
It's then, I say, that a baby pays
For all of her care in her helpless days.

At sixteen months, when they crow with glee
And their arms reach up for the things they see,
When a smile breaks out on that cherub face
The minute you call from your hiding place.
When you know how the worst of you spoils your worth
But to her you're the greatest man on earth,
It's then, I say, that you're downright glad
The good Lord chose you to be a dad.

At sixteen months, let me say to you,
There's a thrill in everything babies do.
They'll keep you going and wear you out,
They'll cling to your hand as you walk about,
But you'll laugh and sing and boast your fill
Of your marvelous baby. Oh, yes, you will!
For at sixteen months, I am here to state,
Every baby, in spite of its dad, is great.