No baby in the house, I know,
‘Tis far too nice and clean.
No toys, by careless fingers strewn,
Upon the floors are seen.
No finger-marks are on the panes,
No scratches on the chairs;
No wooden men set up in rows,
Or marshaled off in pairs;
No little stockings to be darned,
All ragged at the toes;
No pile of mending to be done,
Made up of baby-clothes;
No little troubles to be soothed;
No little hands to fold;
No grimy fingers to be washed;
No stories to be told;
No tender kisses to be given;
No nicknames, “Dove” and “Mouse”;
No merry frolics after tea,-
No baby in the house!
Just a little baby, lying in my arms,—
Would that I could keep you, with your baby charms;
Helpless, clinging fingers, downy, golden hair,
Where the sunshine lingers, caught from otherwhere;
Blue eyes asking questions, lips that cannot speak,
Roly-poly shoulders, dimple in your cheek;
Dainty little blossom in a world of woe,
Thus I fain would keep you, for I love you so.
Roguish little damsel, scarcely six years old,—
Feet that never weary, hair of deeper gold;
Restless, busy fingers all the time at play,
Tongue that never ceases talking all the day;
Blue eyes learning wonders of the world about,
Here you come to tell them,— what an eager shout!—
Winsome little damsel, all the neighbors know;
Thus I long to keep you, for I love you so.
Sober little schoolgirl, with your strap of books,
And such grave importance in your puzzled looks;
Solving weary problems, poring over sums,
Yet with tooth for sponge-cake and for sugar-plums;
Reading books of romance in your bed at night,
Waking up to study with the morning light;
Anxious as to ribbons, deft to tie a bow,
Full of contradictions, — I would keep you so.
Sweet and thoughtful maiden, sitting by my side,
All the world’s before you, and the world is wide;
Hearts are there for winning, hearts are there to break,
Has your own, shy maiden, just begun to wake?
Is that rose of dawning glowing on your cheek
Telling us in blushes what you will not speak?
Shy and tender maiden, I would fain forego
All the golden future, just to keep you so.
Ah! the listening angels saw that she was fair,
Ripe for rare unfolding in the upper air;
Now the rose of dawning turns to lily white,
And the close-shut eyelids veil the eyes from sight;
All the past I summon as I kiss her brow,—
Babe, and child, and maiden, all are with me now.
Though my heart is breaking, yet God’s love I know,—
Safe among the angels, I would keep her so.
~Louise Chandler Moulton~
I’m a little late with this one…
May the love you share on Mother’s day
Reflect God’s love for you
And may he keep you always in his care
And all your loved ones too.
May peace and joy and happiness
Be always in your heart
For these are blessings God has given
For Mothers to impart.
Who fed me from her gentle breast,
And hush’d me in her arms to rest,
And on my cheek sweet kisses prest?
When sleep forsook my open eye,
Who was it sung sweet hushaby,
And rock’d me that I should not cry?
Who sat and watch’d my infant head,
When sleeping on my cradle bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed?
When pain and sickness made me cry,
Who gaz’d upon my heavy eye,
And wept, for fear that I should die?
Who drest my doll in clothes so gay,
And taught me pretty how to play,
And minded all I had to say?
Who ran to help me when I fell,
And would some pretty story tell,
Or kiss the place to make it well?
Who taught my infant lips to pray,
And love God’s holy book and day,
And walk in wisdom’s pleasant way?
And can I ever cease to be
Affectionate and kind to thee,
Who wast so very kind to me,
Ah! no, the thought I cannot bear;
And if God please my life to spare,
I hope I shall reward thy care,
When thou art feeble, old, and gray,
My healthy arm shall be thy stay,
And I will soothe thy pains away,
And when I see thee hang thy head,
‘Twill be my turn to watch thy bed,
And tears of sweet affection shed,
For God, who lives above the skies,
Would look with vengeance in His eyes,
If I should ever dare despise,
Every year at just this time,
In cold and dark December,
Families around the world
All gather to remember,
With presents and with parties,
With feasting and with fun,
Customs and traditions
for people old and young.
~Helen H. Moore~
Across the fields of yesterday
He sometimes comes to me,
A little lad just back from play –
The lad I used to be.
And yet he smiles so wistfully
Once he has crept within,
I wonder if he hopes to see
The man I might have been.
~Thomas S. Jones, Jr.~
Parents are people who have photos
For everyone to see
In compartments of their wallets
Where the money used to be.
It’s difficult to imagine anything more nourishing to the soul than family life. Sir Thomas More
It is not what you do for your children, but what you have taught them to do for themselves, that will make them successful human beings. Ann Landers
Insanity is hereditary you get it from your children. Sam Levenson
The most important thing that a father can do for his children is to love their mother. Rev. Hesburgh
My grandfather once told me that there were two kinds of people: those who do the work and those who take the credit. He told me to try to be in the first group; there was much less competition. Indira Gandhi
A baby will make love stronger, days shorter, nights longer, bankroll smaller, home happier, clothes shabbier, the past forgotten, and the future worth living for.
Sometimes when I need a miracle, I look into my son’s eyes and realize I’ve already created one.
It is not what you do for your children, but what you have taught them to do for themselves, that will make them successful human beings. ANN LANDERS
Children are always the only future the human race has; teach them well.
Children are made readers on the laps of their parents. EMILIE BUCHWALD
Spending time with children is more important than spending money on children. ANTHONY DOUGLAS
Children need love, especially when they do not deserve it. HAROLD S. HULBURT
Don’t limit a child to your own learning, for he was born in another time. A Rabbinic Saying
The only thing I missed
Being an only child
Is the pain and rejection
Of never finding a friend
In the person who shares your genes.
A house is built of walls and beams;
A home is built of love and dreams
Home, the spot of earth supremely blest,
A dearer, sweeter spot than all the rest.
All honour to woman; to her is given
To make of the home a true foretaste of heaven,
And blend with the measure of life’s every duty
Some rhythm of gladness an ideal beauty;
With tact and devotion, with charm and goodwill,
The gospel of womanhood grandly fulfill.
~Isadore Baker ~