 | Short poems for short people |  |
JEALOUS OF BABY.
It's not very difficult, Bessy,
To tell what you 're grieving about.
Those frowns are quite easy to fathom,
And so is that terrible pout.
To tell what you 're grieving about.
Those frowns are quite easy to fathom,
And so is that terrible pout.
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You 're jealous of Baby; I know it.
Why, Bess, you 've been looking forlorn,
And serious as a sexton,
Since dear little Baby was born.
Why, Bess, you 've been looking forlorn,
And serious as a sexton,
Since dear little Baby was born.
Just stand with me now by her cradle,
Where, sleeping so softly, she lies,
Her pretty pink mouth like a rose-bud,
The satin lids veiling her eyes.
Where, sleeping so softly, she lies,
Her pretty pink mouth like a rose-bud,
The satin lids veiling her eyes.
Pray, answer me—is n't she charming?
And gentle? and pure as a dove?
Ah, Bess, can you blame us for loving
What God surely meant us to love?
And gentle? and pure as a dove?
Ah, Bess, can you blame us for loving
What God surely meant us to love?
And why should you think yourself slighted,
Not tenderly prized any more?
Believe it, you 're still just as precious
To all of our lives as before.
Not tenderly prized any more?
Believe it, you 're still just as precious
To all of our lives as before.
Come, kiss and make friends with the Baby;
You'll find her so pleasant to kiss.
I know you have love enough hid in your heart
To spare a wee darling like this!
You'll find her so pleasant to kiss.
I know you have love enough hid in your heart
To spare a wee darling like this!
| Short poems for short people | |