Poet: Julie Hebert, © 2011
Before you were born, my life was a bore.
Really, your Dad and I slept so much longer!
But even though you, get us up in the dew,
Having you, made us much stronger.
Our love for you came, from the moment we acclaimed,
We were having a baby in 40 weeks.
All the happy tears were sent to us with big cheers,
From family and friends with great shrieks!
You were loved from the moment we knew you were there,
But true love showed itself on one December day.
You came into our arms, screaming at the top of your lungs,
And any amount of grey went far, far away.
So here we all are, a family of three,
Now it's time to learn the ropes.
We couldn't have asked, for a better first-child,
You've made true to all of our hopes.
Quotes About Babies
Poet: Helen Steiner Rice
A wee bit of heaven
drifted down from above--
A handful of happiness,
a heartful of love.
The mystery of life,
so sacred and sweet--
The giver of joy
so deep and complete.
Precious and priceless,
so lovable, too--
The world's sweetest miracle,
baby, is you.
Poet: Mrs. Lucy A. Akerman
Another little wave upon the sea of life,
Another soul to save amid its toil and strife;
Two more little feet to walk the dusty road.
To choose where two paths meet - the narrow and the broad.
Two more little hands to work for good or ill;
Two more little eyes, another little will;
Another heart to love, receiving love again;
And so the baby came, a thing of joy and pain.
Poet: Lincoln Hulley
I do love you through and through, baby bye,
And I love you strong and true, baby bye;
Sweet and bright is your love light.
And to love you seems just right, baby bye.
I shall love you as you grow, baby bye,
You shall be your mother's beau, baby bye;
Each day through, I love you true.
And my soul doth cleave to you, baby bye.
I shall love you when I'm old, baby bye,
And my love shall not grow cold, baby bye;
Soft and slow, I rock you so
To the land of sweet balow, baby bye.
I shall love you till I die, baby bye,
You're the light of mother's eye, baby bye;
Sing ye soft, and sing ye low,
And I love you, that I know, baby bye.
by Catherine Pulsifer
T is for thankfulness of my child in my life
H is for the hugs that make my day complete
A is for the appreciation of my child
N is for the nifty things my child always does
K is for the kisses that come out of the blue
F is for forgiving when I do something wrong
U is for the unconditional love I have for my child
L is for the love my child always gives
Poet: John T. Trowbridge
Old age is a garden of faded flowers,
Ruined bowers,
Peopled by cares and failing powers;
When Pain with his crutch, and lonely Grief,
Grope with brief,
Slow steps over ruined stalk and leaf.
But the love of children is like some rare
Heaven's air,
That makes long Indian summer there;
A youth in age, when the skies yet glow,
Soft winds blow,
And hearts keep glad under locks of snow.
In the best-wrought life there is still a reft,
Something left
Forever unfinished, a broken weft.
But merciful Nature makes amends,
When she sends
Youth, that takes up our raveled ends,
Our hopes, our loves, that they be not quite
Lost to sight;
But leave behind us a fringe of light.
Blessed be children! Year by year
They appear,
Filling the humblest home with cheer.
Now a daughter and now a son.
One by one
They are cradled, they creep, they walk, they run.
Sons and daughters, until, behold!
Young and old,
A Jacob's ladder with steps of gold!
A ladder of little heads! each fair
Head a stair
For the angels that visit the parent pair!
Blessed be childhood! even its chains
Are our gains!
Welcome and blessed with all the pains,
Losses, and upward vanishings
Of light wings,
With all the sorrow and toil it brings,
All burdens that ever those small feet bore
To our door -
Blessed and welcome forevermore!
Poet: Annie Russell
For thy dear sake, my little one,
I stifle many a bitter sigh;
For thy sweet life I count it gain
My cherished wishes to deny.
Oh, sacred trust, my baby fair!
How can I count thy worth to me?
Salvation for my erring soul
In thy clear eyes I daily see.
Dear little arms that cling and twine
Around thy mother's lonely heart;
Dear little hands laid in my own,
God grant that we may never part.
Sweet little voice and broken words,
More eloquent than songs of love,
A spell is in thy lowest tones,
That lifts me into realms above.
