 | 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition |  |
195
BABY.
Would you see our precious Baby?
Look around you on the rays
Of her playful sunny ways,
Shining, shining,
Twining, twining,
Round the hearts that once were pining
For the rapture and refining
Of a baby love;
Like a splendour,
Soft and tender,
Fallen from above;
In the midst of sunshine, may be,
In the midst of shade,
You will see our precious Baby,
Light of lights that never fade.
Look around you on the rays
Of her playful sunny ways,
Shining, shining,
Twining, twining,
Round the hearts that once were pining
For the rapture and refining
Of a baby love;
Like a splendour,
Soft and tender,
Fallen from above;
In the midst of sunshine, may be,
In the midst of shade,
You will see our precious Baby,
Light of lights that never fade.
Would you hear our precious Baby?
Listen to the echoes sweet,
Of her soft melodious feet,
Patter, patter,
Clatter, clatter,
All about no earthly matter,
But her own bright childish chatter,
On the nursery floor;
Ever cooing,
And undoing,
What she did before;
In the midst of laughter, may be,
In the midst of tears,
You will hear our precious Baby,
Centre of our hopes and fears.
Listen to the echoes sweet,
Of her soft melodious feet,
Patter, patter,
Clatter, clatter,
All about no earthly matter,
But her own bright childish chatter,
On the nursery floor;
Ever cooing,
And undoing,
What she did before;
In the midst of laughter, may be,
In the midst of tears,
You will hear our precious Baby,
Centre of our hopes and fears.
Would you find our precious Baby?
Seek about you in the wrack
Of her pretty wasteful track,
Papers scattered,
Pictures tattered,
Dolls most mercilessly battered,
And the strangest playthings flattered
With the briefest life;
All the treasures
Of her pleasures,
At a hopeless strife;
In the midst of fragments, may be,
Of her broken toys,
You will find our precious Baby,
Centre of our griefs and joys.
Seek about you in the wrack
Of her pretty wasteful track,
Papers scattered,
Pictures tattered,
Dolls most mercilessly battered,
And the strangest playthings flattered
With the briefest life;
All the treasures
Of her pleasures,
At a hopeless strife;
In the midst of fragments, may be,
Of her broken toys,
You will find our precious Baby,
Centre of our griefs and joys.
196
Would you have a precious Baby?
Do you hunger for the sound
Of a Baby's voice around,
Rattle, rattle,
Prattle, prattle,
Innocent and simple tattle?
Daily, hourly, loving battle,
With a pleasant pain,
Sweet as leaven
Of the heaven
Which you hope to gain?
When you least expect it, may be,
As you darkly plod,
You will have a precious Baby
Like a little piece of God.
Do you hunger for the sound
Of a Baby's voice around,
Rattle, rattle,
Prattle, prattle,
Innocent and simple tattle?
Daily, hourly, loving battle,
With a pleasant pain,
Sweet as leaven
Of the heaven
Which you hope to gain?
When you least expect it, may be,
As you darkly plod,
You will have a precious Baby
Like a little piece of God.
| 'Twixt Kiss and Lip or Under the Sword. By the author of "Women Must Weep," [i.e. F. W. O. Ward] Third edition | |