| Baby Poems
As you read these short baby poems, we hope it reminds you of how special babies truly are. Many of these poems about babies are suitable for a baby girl or a baby boy.
Also, find ones
that you could use for a baby shower invitation. A wide variety of poems about babies for different occasions.
Feel free to share these short poems, full of joy and happiness, with new parents, grandparents
and siblings.
To quote Vincent van Gogh:
"If one feels the need of something grand, something infinite,
something that makes one feel aware of God, one need not go far to find it.
I think that I see something deeper, more infinite, more eternal than the
ocean in the expression of the eyes of a little baby when it wakes in the
morning and coos or laughs because it sees the sun shining on its cradle."
Short Poems / Poems About Family
/ Baby Poems
- related: Quotes About Babies
Collections of Baby Poems;
Popular Short Poems About Babies:
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Baby
Poet: Althea Randolph
The birds sing sweeter,
Since our Baby's birth;
The buds bloom brighter,
Fairer is the Earth!
If we should weigh our Baby,
The weight could ne'er be told;
For the substance of our Baby
Is in Love - and not in gold!
-
Babies Are
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer, ©2012
Babies are a gift.
Each with their own uniqueness.
So cuddly and small
It is hard to believe that they will crawl.
Happiness is what they bring
Even with all the babbling
They grow so fast
A baby they won't last.
Cooing and smiling
Wetting the bedding
Eating and sleeping
Whatever they do we are cheering.
Even the most aged
See a baby and they are engaged
Babies melt our heart
They truly are a work of God's art.
-
A Year Of Babies
Poet: Althea Randolph
January Babies grow
As pretty, pure and white as snow!
February Babies, next,
Have "Kindness" for their daily text!
Babies born in bleak March gale,
Are healthy, happy, strong and hale!
April Babies sometimes cry,
To help the flowers grow by and by!
Babies born in May are sweet.
As blossoms pink, from head to feet!
Babies born in June prove true,
And make the world a bower for you!
July Babies romp and run,
And revel in the noon-day sun!
August Babies sleep away
The sultry hours of summer's day!
September Babies watch the sky.
And sing a twilight lullaby!
October Babies weave gay wreaths
Of smiles and autumn's golden leaves!
November Babies dance and play,
And chase away the clouds of gray!
December Babies loving are
With eyes that sparkle like a star!
-
Wee Babies
by Gov. F. W. Pitkin
Babies short and babies tall,
Babies big and babies small,
Blue-eyed babies, babies fair,
Brown-eyed babies with lots of hair.
Babies so tiny they can't sit up.
Babies that drink from a silver cup.
Babies that coo and babies that creep,
Babies that only can eat and sleep.
Babies that laugh and babies that talk,
Babies quite big enough to walk.
Dimpled fingers and dimpled feet,
What in the world is half so sweet
As babies that jump, laugh, cry and crawl,
Eat, sleep, talk, walk, creep, coo and all
Wee Babies
-
Baby Fingers
Poet: Mrs. Richard Grant White
Ten fat little fingers, so taper and neat,
Ten fat little fingers, so rosy and sweet,
Eagerly reaching for all that comes near,
Now poking your eyes out, now pulling your hair,
Smoothing and patting, with velvet-like touch,
Then digging your cheeks with a mischievous clutch;
Gently waving good-bye with infantine grace,
Then dragging your bonnet down over your face;
Beating pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake, slow and sedate,
Then tearing a book at a furious rate;
Then thumping the window with tightly closed fist;
Now lying asleep, all dimpled and warm,
On the white cradle-pillow, secure from all harm —
Oh, dear baby hands! how much love you enfold
In the weak, careless clasp of those fingers' soft hold!
Keep spotless, as now, through the world's evil ways,
And bless, with fond care, our last weariful days.
-
Prayer For A New Baby
Poet: Anne Spring
We are grateful for the new being
Who is small in body but great in soul,
Who has come into our midst as a gift.
May we be sensitive to the Scared
As we nurture and learn from this child.
Give us patience. Give us strength.
And grant us wisdom and love to help this child
Learn to sing his own song.
-
A Cradle Song
Poet: William Blake
Sweet dreams, form a shade
O'er my lovely infant's head;
Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
By happy, silent, moony beams.
Sweet sleep, with soft down,
Weave thy brows an infant crown.
Sweet sleep, angel mild.
Hover o'er my happy child.
Sweet smiles in the night
Hover over my delight;
Sweet smiles, mother's smiles.
All the livelong night beguiles.
Sweet moans, dove-like sighs.
Chase not slumber from thy eyes.
Sweet moans, sweeter smiles.
All the dove-like moans beguiles.
Sleep, sleep, happy child,
All creation slept and smiled;
Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
While o'er thee thy mother weep.
Sweet babe, in thy face
Holy image I can trace.
Sweet babe, once like thee
Thy Maker lay and wept for me —
Wept for me, for thee, for all,
When He was an infant small.
Thou His image ever see,
Heavenly face that smiles on thee —
Smiles on thee, on me, on all;
Who became an infant small.
Infant smiles are His own smiles;
Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.
-
Button Nose
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Babies are truly loved by all
People think they look like a doll
But when those eyes open wide
Mom and Dad are full of pride.
So very soft those chubby cheeks
We goo and gau as we speak
We hold their tiny hand
Oh, we think babies are so grand.
As we hold the tiny thing
We just cuddle and want to sing
We count their fingers and their toes
And kiss that little button nose!
-
Why
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Why does a baby make us smile,
Is it because we feel they are so worthwhile?
Why does a baby melt a heart,
Is it because we feel it is a new start?
I think we all know deep in our heart
That babies are from God and give a fresh start
Miracles are seen when a baby is arrives
They fill us with love and change our lives!
-
Baby Face
Poet: Catherine Pulsifer
Babies make us do silly things
Make funny faces to make them grin
We talk and we coo
We even call them boo-boo.
Happily, we change many things
So much love a baby brings
We cater to their every whim
Even the diapers, that can be so grim.
Even the toughest guy
Will rock a baby when they cry.
And children love little babies too.
With babies, we act a little cuckoo
Despite all the changes babies do bring
To our lives, they bring the best thing.
The world would be an awful place
If we didn't see a little baby face.
-
Harvest Slumber Song
Poet: William Wilfred Campbell
Sleep, little baby, sleep, sleep, sleep,
Red is the moon in the night's still deep,
White are the stars with their silver wings
Folded in dreamings of beautiful things,
And over their cradle the night wind sings,
Sleep, little baby, sleep, sleep, sleep.
Soft in the lap of the mother night
The wee baby stars, all glowing and bright,
Flutter their silver wings and crow
To the watchful winds that kiss as they blow lo
Round the air-cradle that swings so low
Down in the lap of the mother night.
Sleep, little baby, sleep, sleep, sleep.
Red is the moon in the night's still deep.
And the wee baby stars are all folded and kissed
In a luminous cradle of silver mist;
And if ever they waken the winds cry, Whist,
Sleep, little baby, sleep, sleep, sleep.
-
Baby
Poet: Eloise A Skimings
Rosy dimpled cheeks and chin
Has our baby.
How it loves our smiles to win,
Pretty baby.
Laughs loud when our pet bird sings,
Does our baby,
And clasps its hands, chubby things,
Sweetest baby.
Tries to walk across the why,
Clever baby.
Kisses its hands, when we say,
"Good bye, baby."
-
Mommy's Sleepy Boo
Poet: Julie Hebert, ©2011
So tired you are,
Eyes and nose red.
Tears gloss your eyes,
Time to lay down your head.
Here now take teddy,
Hold him tight.
Close those eyes,
So all will be out of sight.
Dream wonderful dreams,
Of princesses and ponies.
May they bring you happy thoughts,
And help you sleep till morning.
And when you awake,
May happiness come over you.
Mommy will be waiting,
To hug and kiss you, Good morning.
-
Cradle Hymn
Poet: George Withers
Sweet baby, sleep! what ails my dear?
What ails my darling thus to cry?
Be still, my child, and lend thine ear
To hear me sing thy lullaby:
My pretty lamb, forbear to weep.
Be still, my dear; sweet baby, sleep.
Thou blessed soul, what canst thou fear?
What thing to thee can mischief do?
Thy God is now thy Father dear.
His holy Church thy mother too;
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep.
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
Whilst thus thy lullaby I sing,
For thee great blessings ripening be;
Thine eldest Brother is a King,
And hath a kingdom bought for thee;
Sweet baby, then for ear to weep.
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
Sweet baby, sleep, and nothing fear,
For whosoever thee offends
By thy Protector threatened are,
And God and angels are thy friends;
Sweet baby, then forbear to weep.
Be still, my babe; sweet baby, sleep.
-
Baby's Likeness!
Poet: Althea Randolph
Mother says she looks like Father!
Father says she's just like me!
Grandma thinks her quite like Mother;
But with them I don't agree!
For I think she's like my Brother!
Brother says 'tis Uncle Joe
Whom our Baby so resembles,
But Aunt Till declares, ''Oh, no!"
'Cause my Uncle's eyes are hazel.
While our Baby's eyes are blue;
Uncle has no pretty dimples,
Like our little Baby's two!
Father's Sister says the Darling
Is the image of herself!
And Nurse Mary says, "My Baby
Looks just like a Fairy Elf!"
Now Miss Jones, my music-teacher.
Thinks she's like my Cousin Wynn,
While our next-door neighbor fancies
She's more like the other twin!
So I've come to this conclusion.
That there's not a single one
Whom our Baby truly looks like, -
No one's daughter, - no one's son! -
All the members of our family
Have brown hair, - both small and big;
Grandma says our Babe inherits
Red hair from Great Grandpa's wig!
-
For A Very Little Boy
Poet: Edmund Leamy
Your eyes are sea-blue, and they hold
New visions they will not unfold.
You laugh and cry and sleep and play
And eat and croon each lazy day.
Your hours are dreams and happiness,
And life, your mother’s warm caress.
You know not ’neath the singing skies
Are hurt tears and shame and lies.
You think ’tis Heaven you are in.
You know not trouble, care, nor sin.
Oh, Baby, may you never know
The sordid things, the mean, the low.
But should they come, the things we dread,
Then — God’s own blessing on your head.
-
Babyhood
Poet: Josiah Gilbert Holland
What is the little one thinking about
Very wonderful things, no doubt!
Unwritten history!
Unfathomed mystery!
Yet chuckles and crows and nods and winks,
As if his head were as full of kinks
And curious riddles as any sphinx.
Warped by colic and wet by tears,
Punctured by pins and tortured by fears,
Our little nephew will lose two years;
And he'll never know
Where the summers go -
He need not laugh, for he'll find it so.
Who can tell what a baby thinks?
Who can follow the gossamer links
By which the manikin feels his way
from the shore of the great unknown.
Blind and wailing, and alone,
Into the light of day?
Out from the shore of the unknown sea,
Tossing in pitiful agony -
Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls,
Specked with the barks of little souls -
Barks that were launched on the other side,
And slipped from heaven on an ebbing tide!
What does he think of his mother's eyes?
What does he think of his mother's hair?
What of the cradle roof that flies
Forward and backward through the air?
What does he think of his mother's breast,
Bare and beautiful, smooth, and white,
Seeking it ever with fresh delight -
Cup of his life and couch of his rest?
What does he think when her quick embrace
Presses his hand and buries his face
Deep where the heart throbs sink and swell
With a tenderness she can never tell,
Though she murmur the words
Of all the birds
Words she has learned to murmur well?
Now he thinks he'll go to sleep!
I can see the shadow creep
Over his eyes in soft eclipse,
Over his brow and over his lips,
Out to his little finger-tips!
Softly sinking down he goes!
Down he goes! down he goes!
See! he is hushed in sweet repose!
-
Good Night!
Poets: Ann and Jane Taylor
Little baby, lay your head
On your pretty cradle-bed;
Shut your eye-peeps, now the day
And the light are gone away;
All the clothes are tucked in tight;
Little baby dear, good night.
Yes, my darling, well I know
How the bitter wind doth blow;
And the winter's snow and rain
Patter on the window-pane:
But they cannot come in here,
To my little baby dear.
For the window shutteth fast,
Till the stormy night is past;
And the curtains warm are spread
Round about her cradle-bed:
So till morning shineth bright
Little baby dear, good night!
-
Tidings
Poet: J. B. Smith
A baby is coming!
Coming to me!
A man-child, or maid-child,
O which shall it be?
For which does my heart cry
In its lone, childless needs,
For strength, or for tenderness,
Which supersedes?
I know not, I list not!
Coming to me,
A man-child, a maid-child,
God's will, it shall be.
'Twas He heard my deep cry
For this sweet, precious boon,
Bring strength, or bring tenderness,
Joy cometh soon.
A baby is coming!
Coming to me!
A man-child, or maid-child,
Whiche'er thou mayst be,
Maternity's rich love
Is waiting for thee.
Then come, O heart beautiful!
Hasten to me.
More Poems About Family
To Inspire
We hope our baby poems are ones that suit your occasion. These
short poems can
be used in a note sending congratulations or just as a reminder about how dear
babies are.
A newborn will change the lives of the parents, of siblings, of grandparents. You can also see that reflect these thoughts.
Babies are totally dependent on their parents. And the parents find their life has changed usually more than they imagined when the newborn is at home. But the love that comes when they first see their baby is unlike any love there is. And that love stays with a parent no matter what age their child is.
Whatever your use for the poems, the Poet's words express the wonder and
miracle of a baby!
Related Short Poems & Quotes You May Also Like:
A Mother's Love Poem
Poems About Daughters
Son Poems
Short Family Quotes
Grandparents Poems
Children Quotes
Special Occasion
Brother Poems From Sister
Famous Poems
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