JULY TWENTIETHLove that lives and stands up recreated,Then when life has ebbed and anguish fled,Love more strong than death or all things fated,Child's and mother's, lit by love and led.SwinburneJULY TWENTY-FIRSTLet us live with our children; so shall their livesbring peace and joy to us; so shall we begin to beand to become wise.FroebelJULY TWENTY-SECONDAnd thou, my boy, that silent at my knee,Dost lift to mine thy soft, dark, earnest eyes,Filled with the love of childhood, which I see,Pure through its depths, a thing without disguise.HemansJULY TWENTY-THIRDTurning to mirth all things of earth,As only boyhood can.HoodJULY TWENTY-FOURTHA tiny thing,Whom, when it slept, the lovely mother nursedWith reverent love; whom, when it woke she fedAnd wondered at, and lost herself in longRapture of watching and contentment deep.Jean IngelowJULY TWENTY-FIFTHBut more sweetShone lower the loveliest lamp for earthly feet,The light of little children and their love.SwinburneJULY TWENTY-SIXTHFull often it falls out, by fortune from God,That a man and a maid may marry in this world,Find cheer in the child whom they nourish and care forTenderly tend it until the time comes,Beyond the first years, when, the young limbs increasing,Grown firm with life's fulness, are formed for their work;Fond father and mother so guide it and feed it,Give gifts to it, clothe it: God only can knowWhat lot to its latter days life has to bring.Anglo-Saxon PoemJULY TWENTY-SEVENTHBut children holds he dearest of the dear.IngemannJULY TWENTY-EIGHTHBrightest and hardiest of roses anear and afar,Glitters the blithe little face of you, round as a star;Liberty bless you and keep you to be as you are.SwinburneJULY TWENTY-NINTHWe could not wish her whiter—herWho perfumed with pure blossomThe house—a lovely thing to wearUpon a mother's bosom.Mrs. BrowningJULY THIRTIETHThe gracious boy, who did adornThe world whereunto he was born,And by his countenance repayThe favor of the loving day.EmersonJULY THIRTY-FIRSTYet the hearts must childlike be,Where such heavenly guests abide;Unto children in their glee,All the year is Christmas-tide.Lewis CarrollAUGUSTAUGUST FIRSTWeave him a beautiful dream, little breeze!Little leaves, nestle around him!He will remember the song of the trees,When age with silver has crowned him.Rock-a-bye baby, wake by and by,Rock-a-bye.Lucy LarcomAUGUST SECONDThou art thy mother's glass and she in theeCalls back the lovely April of her prime.ShakespeareAUGUST THIRDBut surely, the just sky will never winkAt men who take delight in childish throe,And stripe the nether urchin like a pink.HoodAUGUST FOURTHHappy he!With such a mother, faith in womankindBeats with his blood, and trust in all things highComes easy to him.TennysonAUGUST FIFTHI have not so far left the coasts of lifeTo travel inland, that I cannot hearThat murmur of the outer InfiniteWhich unweaned babies smile at in their sleep,When wondered at for smiling.Mrs. BrowningAUGUST SIXTHIn rearing a child think of its old age.JoubertAUGUST SEVENTHWhither went the lovely hoyden?Disappeared in blessed wife,Servant to a wooden cradle,Living in a baby's life.EmersonAUGUST EIGHTHAnd yet methinks she looks so calm and good,God must be with her in her solitude.Hartley ColeridgeAUGUST NINTHChildish unconsciousness is rest in God.FroebelAUGUST TENTHThe seasons of the year did swiftly whirl,They measured time by one small life alone.Jean IngelowAUGUST ELEVENTHOh, my own baby on my knee,My leaping, dimpled treasure.Mrs. BrowningAUGUST TWELFTHCrazy with laughter and babble and earth's new wine,Now that the flower of a year and a half are thine,O, little blossom, O mine and of mine!Glorious poet who never has written a line!TennysonAUGUST THIRTEENTHOn the lapOf his mother, as he standsStretching out his tiny hands,And his little lips the while,Half-open, on his father smile.CatullusAUGUST FOURTEENTHBut the breezes of childish laughter,And the light in a baby's eye,To the homeliest road bring a freshnessAs free as the blue of the sky.Lucy LarcomAUGUST FIFTEENTHMy little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er.CampbellAUGUST SIXTEENTHFor all its warm, sweet body seems one smileAnd mere men's love too vile to meet it.SwinburneAUGUST SEVENTEENTHA child of light, a radiant lass,And gamesome as the morning air.Jean IngelowAUGUST EIGHTEENTHShall we never cease to stamp human nature, evenin childhood, like coins.FroebelAUGUST NINETEENTHMy business is to suck, and sleep, and flingThe cradle clothes about me all day long,Or, half asleep, hear my sweet mother sing,And to be washt in water clean and warm,And husht and kist and kept secure from harm.ShelleyAUGUST TWENTIETHGolden slumbers kiss your eyes,Smiles awake you when you rise:Sleep pretty wantons, do not cry,And I will sing a lullaby.Rock them, rock them, lullaby.Thomas DekkerAUGUST TWENTY-FIRSTAs the moon on the lake's face flashes,So, happy may gleam, at whiles,A dream through the dear deep lashesWhereunder a child's eye smiles.SwinburneAUGUST TWENTY-SECONDChildhood was the bough, where slumberedBirds and blossoms many-numbered.LongfellowAUGUST TWENTY-THIRDTo the royal soul of a babyOne fairy realm is the earth.Lucy LarcomAUGUST TWENTY-FOURTHSo rounds he to a separate mindFrom which clear memory may begin.TennysonAUGUST TWENTY-FIFTHI dream of those two little ones at play,Making the threshold vocal with their cries,Half tears, half laughter, mingled sport and strife,Like two flowers blown together by the wind.Victor HugoAUGUST TWENTY-SIXTHThat woman's toy,A baby!Mrs. BrowningAUGUST TWENTY-SEVENTHPerpetual care and joy of our life, our despoticflatterers, greedy for the very least pleasure, franklyselfish, instinctively sure of their too legitimateindependence—children are our masters, no matterhow firm we may pretend to be with them.George SandAUGUST TWENTY-EIGHTHAnd now, the rosy children come to play,And romp and struggle with the new-mown hay;Their clear high voices sound from far away.Edmund GosseAUGUST TWENTY-NINTHFor the house that was childless awhile, and thelight of it darkened, and the pulse of it dwindled,Rings radiant again with a child's bright feet,with the light of his face is rekindled.SwinburneAUGUST THIRTIETHMy teachers are the children themselves, withall their purity, their innocence, theirunconsciousness and their irresistible charms.FroebelAUGUST THIRTY-FIRSTWomen-folks said she was like her father—men-folkssaid she was like her mother—but the wisestpeople always said she was like us both.From "The Finest Baby in the World"SEPTEMBERSEPTEMBER FIRSTPreserve him from the bad teacher, forthe unfortunate and road-lost one will makehim as himself.Sa'diSEPTEMBER SECONDAll unkissed by innocent beauty,All unloved by guileless heart,All uncheered by sweetest duty,Childless man how poor thou art!TupperSEPTEMBER THIRDWe cannot measure the needOf even the tiniest flower,Nor check the flow of the golden sandsThat run through a single hour.But the morning dew must fallAnd the sun and the summer rainMust do their part, and perform it allOver and over again.Josephine PollardSEPTEMBER FOURTHWhen you stood up in the houseWith your little childish feet,And, in touching life's first shows,First the touch of love did meet.Mrs. BrowningSEPTEMBER FIFTHEven as a child that after piningFor the sweet absent mother, hearsHer voice, and round her neck, entwiningYoung arms, vents all its soul in tears.SchillerSEPTEMBER SIXTHWho takes the children on his knee,And winds their curls about his hand.TennysonSEPTEMBER SEVENTHHe's such a kicking, crowing, wakeful rogue,He almost wears our lives out with his noise,Just at day-dawning when we wish to sleep.Jean IngelowSEPTEMBER EIGHTHHappy little children, skies are bright above you,Trees bend down to kiss you, breeze and blossom love you.Lucy LarcomSEPTEMBER NINTHA baby's eyes ere speech begins;Ere lips learn words or sighs,Bless all things bright enough to winA baby's eyes.SwinburneSEPTEMBER TENTHSome day you'll knowHow closely to one's heart a son can cling.RacineSEPTEMBER ELEVENTHThy sports, thy wanderings, when a child,Were ever in the sylvan wild,And all the beauty of the placeIs in thy heart and on thy face.BryantReprinted from Bryant's Complete Poetical Works by permission of D. Appleton & Co.SEPTEMBER TWELFTHIt was a childish ignorance,But now 't is little joyTo know I'm farther off from heavenThan when I was a boy.HoodSEPTEMBER THIRTEENTHSweet babe! True portrait of thy father's face,Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed!Sleep little one; and closely, gently placeThy drowsy eyelids on thy mother's breast.LongfellowSEPTEMBER FOURTEENTHThat land of glorious mysteryWhither we all are wending,A lonely sort of heaven will be,If there no baby-familyAwait my love and tending.Lucy LarcomSEPTEMBER FIFTEENTHWhat note of song have weFit for the birds and theeFair nestling couched beneath the mother-dove?SwinburneSEPTEMBER SIXTEENTHThou closely clingest to thy mother's arms,Nestling thy little face in that fond breastWhose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest!Man's breathing miniature.S. T. ColeridgeSEPTEMBER SEVENTEENTHA lisping voice and glancing eyes are near,And ever restless feet of one, who nowGathers the blossoms of her fourth bright year.BryantReprinted from Bryant's Complete Poetical Works by permission of D. Appleton & Co.SEPTEMBER EIGHTEENTHOnce was she wealthy, with small cares,And small hands clinging to her knees.Lizette Woodworth ReeseSEPTEMBER NINETEENTHI, a woman, wife and mother,What have I to do with art?Are ye not my noblest pictures,Portraits painted from my heart?Margaret J. PrestonSEPTEMBER TWENTIETHIt was a little Child who swungWide back that city's portalsWhere hearts remain forever young;And all things good and pure among,Shall childhood be immortal.Lucy LarcomSEPTEMBER TWENTY-FIRSTThe mother, with sweet pious face,Turns toward her little children from her seat,Gives one a kiss, another an embrace,Takes this upon her knees, that upon her feet:And, while from actions, looks, complaints, pretences,She learns their feelings and their various will,To this a look, to that a word dispenses,And, whether stern or smiling, loves them still.FilicaiaSEPTEMBER TWENTY-SECONDA living book is mine—In age three years: in it I read no lies,In it to myriad truths I find the clue—A tender little child; but I divineThoughts high as Dante's in her clear blue eyes.Maurice Francis EganSEPTEMBER TWENTY-THIRDThat pure shrineOf childhood, though my love be trueIs hidden from my dim confine.Author unknownSEPTEMBER TWENTY-FOURTHTheir glance might cast out pain and sin,Their speech make dumb the wise;By mute glad Godhead felt withinA baby's eyes.SwinburneSEPTEMBER TWENTY-FIFTHLulla-lo! to the rise and fall of mother's bosom't is sleep has bound you,And oh, my child, what cosier nest for rosier restcould love have found you?Sleep, baby dear,Sleep without fear:Mother's two arms are clasped around you.Alfred Percival GatesSEPTEMBER TWENTY-SIXTHAnd if no clustering swarm of beesOn thy sweet mouth distilled their golden dew,'T was that such vulgar miraclesHeaven had not leisure to renew:For all the blest fraternity of loveSolemnized there thy birth, and kept thy holiday above.John DrydenSEPTEMBER TWENTY-SEVENTHSublimity always is simpleBoth in sermon and song, a child can seize on the meaning.LongfellowSEPTEMBER TWENTY-EIGHTHTake thy joy and revel in it,Living through each golden minute,Trusting God who gave you thisBaby child to love and kiss.From "The Finest Baby in the World"SEPTEMBER TWENTY-NINTHStill smile at even on the bedded child,And close his eyelids with thy silver wand.HoodSEPTEMBER THIRTIETHOf such is the kingdom of heaven,No glory that ever was shedFrom the crowning star of the sevenThat crown the North world's head,No word that ever was spokenOf human or godlike tongueGave ever such godlike tokenSince human harps were strung.SwinburneOCTOBEROCTOBER FIRSTLittle lamb, asleep and still,God protect thee from all ill;Those who love thee ne'er can beFree from pain in loving thee.From "The Finest Baby in the World"OCTOBER SECONDThen, when Mamma goes by to bed,She shall come in with tiptoe tread,And see me lying warm and fastAnd in the land of Nod at last.Robert Louis Stevenson
JULY TWENTIETH
Love that lives and stands up recreated,Then when life has ebbed and anguish fled,Love more strong than death or all things fated,Child's and mother's, lit by love and led.Swinburne
Love that lives and stands up recreated,Then when life has ebbed and anguish fled,Love more strong than death or all things fated,Child's and mother's, lit by love and led.Swinburne
Love that lives and stands up recreated,
Then when life has ebbed and anguish fled,
Love more strong than death or all things fated,
Child's and mother's, lit by love and led.
Swinburne
Swinburne
JULY TWENTY-FIRST
Let us live with our children; so shall their livesbring peace and joy to us; so shall we begin to beand to become wise.Froebel
Let us live with our children; so shall their livesbring peace and joy to us; so shall we begin to beand to become wise.Froebel
Let us live with our children; so shall their lives
bring peace and joy to us; so shall we begin to be
and to become wise.
Froebel
Froebel
JULY TWENTY-SECOND
And thou, my boy, that silent at my knee,Dost lift to mine thy soft, dark, earnest eyes,Filled with the love of childhood, which I see,Pure through its depths, a thing without disguise.Hemans
And thou, my boy, that silent at my knee,Dost lift to mine thy soft, dark, earnest eyes,Filled with the love of childhood, which I see,Pure through its depths, a thing without disguise.Hemans
And thou, my boy, that silent at my knee,
Dost lift to mine thy soft, dark, earnest eyes,
Filled with the love of childhood, which I see,
Pure through its depths, a thing without disguise.
Hemans
Hemans
JULY TWENTY-THIRD
Turning to mirth all things of earth,As only boyhood can.Hood
Turning to mirth all things of earth,As only boyhood can.Hood
Turning to mirth all things of earth,
As only boyhood can.
Hood
Hood
JULY TWENTY-FOURTH
A tiny thing,Whom, when it slept, the lovely mother nursedWith reverent love; whom, when it woke she fedAnd wondered at, and lost herself in longRapture of watching and contentment deep.Jean Ingelow
A tiny thing,Whom, when it slept, the lovely mother nursedWith reverent love; whom, when it woke she fedAnd wondered at, and lost herself in longRapture of watching and contentment deep.Jean Ingelow
A tiny thing,
A tiny thing,
Whom, when it slept, the lovely mother nursed
With reverent love; whom, when it woke she fed
And wondered at, and lost herself in long
Rapture of watching and contentment deep.
Jean Ingelow
Jean Ingelow
Jean Ingelow
JULY TWENTY-FIFTH
But more sweetShone lower the loveliest lamp for earthly feet,The light of little children and their love.Swinburne
But more sweetShone lower the loveliest lamp for earthly feet,The light of little children and their love.Swinburne
But more sweet
But more sweet
Shone lower the loveliest lamp for earthly feet,
The light of little children and their love.
Swinburne
Swinburne
Swinburne
JULY TWENTY-SIXTH
Full often it falls out, by fortune from God,That a man and a maid may marry in this world,Find cheer in the child whom they nourish and care forTenderly tend it until the time comes,Beyond the first years, when, the young limbs increasing,Grown firm with life's fulness, are formed for their work;Fond father and mother so guide it and feed it,Give gifts to it, clothe it: God only can knowWhat lot to its latter days life has to bring.Anglo-Saxon Poem
Full often it falls out, by fortune from God,That a man and a maid may marry in this world,Find cheer in the child whom they nourish and care forTenderly tend it until the time comes,Beyond the first years, when, the young limbs increasing,Grown firm with life's fulness, are formed for their work;Fond father and mother so guide it and feed it,Give gifts to it, clothe it: God only can knowWhat lot to its latter days life has to bring.Anglo-Saxon Poem
Full often it falls out, by fortune from God,
That a man and a maid may marry in this world,
Find cheer in the child whom they nourish and care for
Tenderly tend it until the time comes,
Beyond the first years, when, the young limbs increasing,
Grown firm with life's fulness, are formed for their work;
Fond father and mother so guide it and feed it,
Give gifts to it, clothe it: God only can know
What lot to its latter days life has to bring.
Anglo-Saxon Poem
Anglo-Saxon Poem
JULY TWENTY-SEVENTH
But children holds he dearest of the dear.Ingemann
But children holds he dearest of the dear.Ingemann
But children holds he dearest of the dear.
Ingemann
Ingemann
JULY TWENTY-EIGHTH
Brightest and hardiest of roses anear and afar,Glitters the blithe little face of you, round as a star;Liberty bless you and keep you to be as you are.Swinburne
Brightest and hardiest of roses anear and afar,Glitters the blithe little face of you, round as a star;Liberty bless you and keep you to be as you are.Swinburne
Brightest and hardiest of roses anear and afar,
Glitters the blithe little face of you, round as a star;
Liberty bless you and keep you to be as you are.
Swinburne
Swinburne
JULY TWENTY-NINTH
We could not wish her whiter—herWho perfumed with pure blossomThe house—a lovely thing to wearUpon a mother's bosom.Mrs. Browning
We could not wish her whiter—herWho perfumed with pure blossomThe house—a lovely thing to wearUpon a mother's bosom.Mrs. Browning
We could not wish her whiter—her
Who perfumed with pure blossom
The house—a lovely thing to wear
Upon a mother's bosom.
Mrs. Browning
Mrs. Browning
JULY THIRTIETH
The gracious boy, who did adornThe world whereunto he was born,And by his countenance repayThe favor of the loving day.Emerson
The gracious boy, who did adornThe world whereunto he was born,And by his countenance repayThe favor of the loving day.Emerson
The gracious boy, who did adorn
The world whereunto he was born,
And by his countenance repay
The favor of the loving day.
Emerson
Emerson
JULY THIRTY-FIRST
Yet the hearts must childlike be,Where such heavenly guests abide;Unto children in their glee,All the year is Christmas-tide.Lewis Carroll
Yet the hearts must childlike be,Where such heavenly guests abide;Unto children in their glee,All the year is Christmas-tide.Lewis Carroll
Yet the hearts must childlike be,
Where such heavenly guests abide;
Unto children in their glee,
All the year is Christmas-tide.
Lewis Carroll
Lewis Carroll
AUGUST
AUGUST FIRST
Weave him a beautiful dream, little breeze!Little leaves, nestle around him!He will remember the song of the trees,When age with silver has crowned him.Rock-a-bye baby, wake by and by,Rock-a-bye.Lucy Larcom
Weave him a beautiful dream, little breeze!Little leaves, nestle around him!He will remember the song of the trees,When age with silver has crowned him.Rock-a-bye baby, wake by and by,Rock-a-bye.Lucy Larcom
Weave him a beautiful dream, little breeze!
Little leaves, nestle around him!
He will remember the song of the trees,
When age with silver has crowned him.
Rock-a-bye baby, wake by and by,
Rock-a-bye.Lucy Larcom
Rock-a-bye.
Lucy Larcom
Lucy Larcom
AUGUST SECOND
Thou art thy mother's glass and she in theeCalls back the lovely April of her prime.Shakespeare
Thou art thy mother's glass and she in theeCalls back the lovely April of her prime.Shakespeare
Thou art thy mother's glass and she in thee
Calls back the lovely April of her prime.
Shakespeare
Shakespeare
AUGUST THIRD
But surely, the just sky will never winkAt men who take delight in childish throe,And stripe the nether urchin like a pink.Hood
But surely, the just sky will never winkAt men who take delight in childish throe,And stripe the nether urchin like a pink.Hood
But surely, the just sky will never wink
At men who take delight in childish throe,
And stripe the nether urchin like a pink.
Hood
Hood
AUGUST FOURTH
Happy he!With such a mother, faith in womankindBeats with his blood, and trust in all things highComes easy to him.Tennyson
Happy he!With such a mother, faith in womankindBeats with his blood, and trust in all things highComes easy to him.Tennyson
Happy he!
Happy he!
Happy he!
With such a mother, faith in womankind
Beats with his blood, and trust in all things high
Comes easy to him.Tennyson
Comes easy to him.
Tennyson
Tennyson
Tennyson
AUGUST FIFTH
I have not so far left the coasts of lifeTo travel inland, that I cannot hearThat murmur of the outer InfiniteWhich unweaned babies smile at in their sleep,When wondered at for smiling.Mrs. Browning
I have not so far left the coasts of lifeTo travel inland, that I cannot hearThat murmur of the outer InfiniteWhich unweaned babies smile at in their sleep,When wondered at for smiling.Mrs. Browning
I have not so far left the coasts of life
To travel inland, that I cannot hear
That murmur of the outer Infinite
Which unweaned babies smile at in their sleep,
When wondered at for smiling.
Mrs. Browning
Mrs. Browning
AUGUST SIXTH
In rearing a child think of its old age.Joubert
In rearing a child think of its old age.Joubert
In rearing a child think of its old age.
Joubert
Joubert
AUGUST SEVENTH
Whither went the lovely hoyden?Disappeared in blessed wife,Servant to a wooden cradle,Living in a baby's life.Emerson
Whither went the lovely hoyden?Disappeared in blessed wife,Servant to a wooden cradle,Living in a baby's life.Emerson
Whither went the lovely hoyden?
Disappeared in blessed wife,
Servant to a wooden cradle,
Living in a baby's life.
Emerson
Emerson
AUGUST EIGHTH
And yet methinks she looks so calm and good,God must be with her in her solitude.Hartley Coleridge
And yet methinks she looks so calm and good,God must be with her in her solitude.Hartley Coleridge
And yet methinks she looks so calm and good,
God must be with her in her solitude.
Hartley Coleridge
Hartley Coleridge
AUGUST NINTH
Childish unconsciousness is rest in God.Froebel
Childish unconsciousness is rest in God.Froebel
Childish unconsciousness is rest in God.
Froebel
Froebel
AUGUST TENTH
The seasons of the year did swiftly whirl,They measured time by one small life alone.Jean Ingelow
The seasons of the year did swiftly whirl,They measured time by one small life alone.Jean Ingelow
The seasons of the year did swiftly whirl,
They measured time by one small life alone.
Jean Ingelow
Jean Ingelow
AUGUST ELEVENTH
Oh, my own baby on my knee,My leaping, dimpled treasure.Mrs. Browning
Oh, my own baby on my knee,My leaping, dimpled treasure.Mrs. Browning
Oh, my own baby on my knee,
My leaping, dimpled treasure.
Mrs. Browning
Mrs. Browning
AUGUST TWELFTH
Crazy with laughter and babble and earth's new wine,Now that the flower of a year and a half are thine,O, little blossom, O mine and of mine!Glorious poet who never has written a line!Tennyson
Crazy with laughter and babble and earth's new wine,Now that the flower of a year and a half are thine,O, little blossom, O mine and of mine!Glorious poet who never has written a line!Tennyson
Crazy with laughter and babble and earth's new wine,
Now that the flower of a year and a half are thine,
O, little blossom, O mine and of mine!
Glorious poet who never has written a line!
Tennyson
Tennyson
AUGUST THIRTEENTH
On the lapOf his mother, as he standsStretching out his tiny hands,And his little lips the while,Half-open, on his father smile.Catullus
On the lapOf his mother, as he standsStretching out his tiny hands,And his little lips the while,Half-open, on his father smile.Catullus
On the lap
On the lap
Of his mother, as he stands
Stretching out his tiny hands,
And his little lips the while,
Half-open, on his father smile.
Catullus
Catullus
Catullus
AUGUST FOURTEENTH
But the breezes of childish laughter,And the light in a baby's eye,To the homeliest road bring a freshnessAs free as the blue of the sky.Lucy Larcom
But the breezes of childish laughter,And the light in a baby's eye,To the homeliest road bring a freshnessAs free as the blue of the sky.Lucy Larcom
But the breezes of childish laughter,
And the light in a baby's eye,
To the homeliest road bring a freshness
As free as the blue of the sky.
Lucy Larcom
Lucy Larcom
AUGUST FIFTEENTH
My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er.Campbell
My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er.Campbell
My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er.
Campbell
Campbell
AUGUST SIXTEENTH
For all its warm, sweet body seems one smileAnd mere men's love too vile to meet it.Swinburne
For all its warm, sweet body seems one smileAnd mere men's love too vile to meet it.Swinburne
For all its warm, sweet body seems one smile
And mere men's love too vile to meet it.
Swinburne
Swinburne
AUGUST SEVENTEENTH
A child of light, a radiant lass,And gamesome as the morning air.Jean Ingelow
A child of light, a radiant lass,And gamesome as the morning air.Jean Ingelow
A child of light, a radiant lass,
And gamesome as the morning air.
Jean Ingelow
Jean Ingelow
AUGUST EIGHTEENTH
Shall we never cease to stamp human nature, evenin childhood, like coins.Froebel
Shall we never cease to stamp human nature, evenin childhood, like coins.Froebel
Shall we never cease to stamp human nature, even
in childhood, like coins.
Froebel
Froebel
AUGUST NINETEENTH
My business is to suck, and sleep, and flingThe cradle clothes about me all day long,Or, half asleep, hear my sweet mother sing,And to be washt in water clean and warm,And husht and kist and kept secure from harm.Shelley
My business is to suck, and sleep, and flingThe cradle clothes about me all day long,Or, half asleep, hear my sweet mother sing,And to be washt in water clean and warm,And husht and kist and kept secure from harm.Shelley
My business is to suck, and sleep, and fling
The cradle clothes about me all day long,
Or, half asleep, hear my sweet mother sing,
And to be washt in water clean and warm,
And husht and kist and kept secure from harm.
Shelley
Shelley
AUGUST TWENTIETH
Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,Smiles awake you when you rise:Sleep pretty wantons, do not cry,And I will sing a lullaby.Rock them, rock them, lullaby.Thomas Dekker
Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,Smiles awake you when you rise:Sleep pretty wantons, do not cry,And I will sing a lullaby.Rock them, rock them, lullaby.Thomas Dekker
Golden slumbers kiss your eyes,
Smiles awake you when you rise:
Sleep pretty wantons, do not cry,
And I will sing a lullaby.
Rock them, rock them, lullaby.
Thomas Dekker
Thomas Dekker
AUGUST TWENTY-FIRST
As the moon on the lake's face flashes,So, happy may gleam, at whiles,A dream through the dear deep lashesWhereunder a child's eye smiles.Swinburne
As the moon on the lake's face flashes,So, happy may gleam, at whiles,A dream through the dear deep lashesWhereunder a child's eye smiles.Swinburne
As the moon on the lake's face flashes,
So, happy may gleam, at whiles,
A dream through the dear deep lashes
Whereunder a child's eye smiles.
Swinburne
Swinburne
AUGUST TWENTY-SECOND
Childhood was the bough, where slumberedBirds and blossoms many-numbered.Longfellow
Childhood was the bough, where slumberedBirds and blossoms many-numbered.Longfellow
Childhood was the bough, where slumbered
Birds and blossoms many-numbered.
Longfellow
Longfellow
AUGUST TWENTY-THIRD
To the royal soul of a babyOne fairy realm is the earth.Lucy Larcom
To the royal soul of a babyOne fairy realm is the earth.Lucy Larcom
To the royal soul of a baby
One fairy realm is the earth.
Lucy Larcom
Lucy Larcom
AUGUST TWENTY-FOURTH
So rounds he to a separate mindFrom which clear memory may begin.Tennyson
So rounds he to a separate mindFrom which clear memory may begin.Tennyson
So rounds he to a separate mind
From which clear memory may begin.
Tennyson
Tennyson
AUGUST TWENTY-FIFTH
I dream of those two little ones at play,Making the threshold vocal with their cries,Half tears, half laughter, mingled sport and strife,Like two flowers blown together by the wind.Victor Hugo
I dream of those two little ones at play,Making the threshold vocal with their cries,Half tears, half laughter, mingled sport and strife,Like two flowers blown together by the wind.Victor Hugo
I dream of those two little ones at play,
Making the threshold vocal with their cries,
Half tears, half laughter, mingled sport and strife,
Like two flowers blown together by the wind.
Victor Hugo
Victor Hugo
AUGUST TWENTY-SIXTH
That woman's toy,A baby!Mrs. Browning
That woman's toy,A baby!Mrs. Browning
That woman's toy,
A baby!Mrs. Browning
A baby!
Mrs. Browning
Mrs. Browning
AUGUST TWENTY-SEVENTH
Perpetual care and joy of our life, our despoticflatterers, greedy for the very least pleasure, franklyselfish, instinctively sure of their too legitimateindependence—children are our masters, no matterhow firm we may pretend to be with them.George Sand
Perpetual care and joy of our life, our despoticflatterers, greedy for the very least pleasure, franklyselfish, instinctively sure of their too legitimateindependence—children are our masters, no matterhow firm we may pretend to be with them.George Sand
Perpetual care and joy of our life, our despotic
flatterers, greedy for the very least pleasure, frankly
selfish, instinctively sure of their too legitimate
independence—children are our masters, no matter
how firm we may pretend to be with them.
George Sand
George Sand
AUGUST TWENTY-EIGHTH
And now, the rosy children come to play,And romp and struggle with the new-mown hay;Their clear high voices sound from far away.Edmund Gosse
And now, the rosy children come to play,And romp and struggle with the new-mown hay;Their clear high voices sound from far away.Edmund Gosse
And now, the rosy children come to play,
And romp and struggle with the new-mown hay;
Their clear high voices sound from far away.
Edmund Gosse
Edmund Gosse
AUGUST TWENTY-NINTH
For the house that was childless awhile, and thelight of it darkened, and the pulse of it dwindled,Rings radiant again with a child's bright feet,with the light of his face is rekindled.Swinburne
For the house that was childless awhile, and thelight of it darkened, and the pulse of it dwindled,Rings radiant again with a child's bright feet,with the light of his face is rekindled.Swinburne
For the house that was childless awhile, and the
light of it darkened, and the pulse of it dwindled,
light of it darkened, and the pulse of it dwindled,
Rings radiant again with a child's bright feet,
with the light of his face is rekindled.Swinburne
with the light of his face is rekindled.
Swinburne
Swinburne
AUGUST THIRTIETH
My teachers are the children themselves, withall their purity, their innocence, theirunconsciousness and their irresistible charms.Froebel
My teachers are the children themselves, withall their purity, their innocence, theirunconsciousness and their irresistible charms.Froebel
My teachers are the children themselves, with
all their purity, their innocence, their
unconsciousness and their irresistible charms.
Froebel
Froebel
AUGUST THIRTY-FIRST
Women-folks said she was like her father—men-folkssaid she was like her mother—but the wisestpeople always said she was like us both.From "The Finest Baby in the World"
Women-folks said she was like her father—men-folkssaid she was like her mother—but the wisestpeople always said she was like us both.From "The Finest Baby in the World"
Women-folks said she was like her father—men-folks
said she was like her mother—but the wisest
people always said she was like us both.
From "The Finest Baby in the World"
From "The Finest Baby in the World"
SEPTEMBER
SEPTEMBER FIRST
Preserve him from the bad teacher, forthe unfortunate and road-lost one will makehim as himself.Sa'di
Preserve him from the bad teacher, forthe unfortunate and road-lost one will makehim as himself.Sa'di
Preserve him from the bad teacher, for
the unfortunate and road-lost one will make
him as himself.
Sa'di
Sa'di
SEPTEMBER SECOND
All unkissed by innocent beauty,All unloved by guileless heart,All uncheered by sweetest duty,Childless man how poor thou art!Tupper
All unkissed by innocent beauty,All unloved by guileless heart,All uncheered by sweetest duty,Childless man how poor thou art!Tupper
All unkissed by innocent beauty,
All unloved by guileless heart,
All uncheered by sweetest duty,
Childless man how poor thou art!
Tupper
Tupper
SEPTEMBER THIRD
We cannot measure the needOf even the tiniest flower,Nor check the flow of the golden sandsThat run through a single hour.But the morning dew must fallAnd the sun and the summer rainMust do their part, and perform it allOver and over again.Josephine Pollard
We cannot measure the needOf even the tiniest flower,Nor check the flow of the golden sandsThat run through a single hour.But the morning dew must fallAnd the sun and the summer rainMust do their part, and perform it allOver and over again.Josephine Pollard
We cannot measure the need
Of even the tiniest flower,
Nor check the flow of the golden sands
That run through a single hour.
But the morning dew must fall
And the sun and the summer rain
Must do their part, and perform it all
Over and over again.
Josephine Pollard
Josephine Pollard
SEPTEMBER FOURTH
When you stood up in the houseWith your little childish feet,And, in touching life's first shows,First the touch of love did meet.Mrs. Browning
When you stood up in the houseWith your little childish feet,And, in touching life's first shows,First the touch of love did meet.Mrs. Browning
When you stood up in the house
With your little childish feet,
And, in touching life's first shows,
First the touch of love did meet.
Mrs. Browning
Mrs. Browning
SEPTEMBER FIFTH
Even as a child that after piningFor the sweet absent mother, hearsHer voice, and round her neck, entwiningYoung arms, vents all its soul in tears.Schiller
Even as a child that after piningFor the sweet absent mother, hearsHer voice, and round her neck, entwiningYoung arms, vents all its soul in tears.Schiller
Even as a child that after pining
For the sweet absent mother, hears
Her voice, and round her neck, entwining
Young arms, vents all its soul in tears.
Schiller
Schiller
SEPTEMBER SIXTH
Who takes the children on his knee,And winds their curls about his hand.Tennyson
Who takes the children on his knee,And winds their curls about his hand.Tennyson
Who takes the children on his knee,
And winds their curls about his hand.
Tennyson
Tennyson
SEPTEMBER SEVENTH
He's such a kicking, crowing, wakeful rogue,He almost wears our lives out with his noise,Just at day-dawning when we wish to sleep.Jean Ingelow
He's such a kicking, crowing, wakeful rogue,He almost wears our lives out with his noise,Just at day-dawning when we wish to sleep.Jean Ingelow
He's such a kicking, crowing, wakeful rogue,
He almost wears our lives out with his noise,
Just at day-dawning when we wish to sleep.
Jean Ingelow
Jean Ingelow
SEPTEMBER EIGHTH
Happy little children, skies are bright above you,Trees bend down to kiss you, breeze and blossom love you.Lucy Larcom
Happy little children, skies are bright above you,Trees bend down to kiss you, breeze and blossom love you.Lucy Larcom
Happy little children, skies are bright above you,
Trees bend down to kiss you, breeze and blossom love you.
Lucy Larcom
Lucy Larcom
SEPTEMBER NINTH
A baby's eyes ere speech begins;Ere lips learn words or sighs,Bless all things bright enough to winA baby's eyes.Swinburne
A baby's eyes ere speech begins;Ere lips learn words or sighs,Bless all things bright enough to winA baby's eyes.Swinburne
A baby's eyes ere speech begins;
Ere lips learn words or sighs,
Bless all things bright enough to win
A baby's eyes.Swinburne
A baby's eyes.
Swinburne
Swinburne
SEPTEMBER TENTH
Some day you'll knowHow closely to one's heart a son can cling.Racine
Some day you'll knowHow closely to one's heart a son can cling.Racine
Some day you'll know
How closely to one's heart a son can cling.
Racine
Racine
SEPTEMBER ELEVENTH
Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child,Were ever in the sylvan wild,And all the beauty of the placeIs in thy heart and on thy face.Bryant
Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child,Were ever in the sylvan wild,And all the beauty of the placeIs in thy heart and on thy face.Bryant
Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child,
Were ever in the sylvan wild,
And all the beauty of the place
Is in thy heart and on thy face.
Bryant
Bryant
Reprinted from Bryant's Complete Poetical Works by permission of D. Appleton & Co.
SEPTEMBER TWELFTH
It was a childish ignorance,But now 't is little joyTo know I'm farther off from heavenThan when I was a boy.Hood
It was a childish ignorance,But now 't is little joyTo know I'm farther off from heavenThan when I was a boy.Hood
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 't is little joy
To know I'm farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.
Hood
Hood
SEPTEMBER THIRTEENTH
Sweet babe! True portrait of thy father's face,Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed!Sleep little one; and closely, gently placeThy drowsy eyelids on thy mother's breast.Longfellow
Sweet babe! True portrait of thy father's face,Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed!Sleep little one; and closely, gently placeThy drowsy eyelids on thy mother's breast.Longfellow
Sweet babe! True portrait of thy father's face,
Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed!
Sleep little one; and closely, gently place
Thy drowsy eyelids on thy mother's breast.
Longfellow
Longfellow
SEPTEMBER FOURTEENTH
That land of glorious mysteryWhither we all are wending,A lonely sort of heaven will be,If there no baby-familyAwait my love and tending.Lucy Larcom
That land of glorious mysteryWhither we all are wending,A lonely sort of heaven will be,If there no baby-familyAwait my love and tending.Lucy Larcom
That land of glorious mystery
Whither we all are wending,
A lonely sort of heaven will be,
If there no baby-family
Await my love and tending.
Lucy Larcom
Lucy Larcom
SEPTEMBER FIFTEENTH
What note of song have weFit for the birds and theeFair nestling couched beneath the mother-dove?Swinburne
What note of song have weFit for the birds and theeFair nestling couched beneath the mother-dove?Swinburne
What note of song have we
Fit for the birds and thee
Fair nestling couched beneath the mother-dove?
Swinburne
Swinburne
SEPTEMBER SIXTEENTH
Thou closely clingest to thy mother's arms,Nestling thy little face in that fond breastWhose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest!Man's breathing miniature.S. T. Coleridge
Thou closely clingest to thy mother's arms,Nestling thy little face in that fond breastWhose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest!Man's breathing miniature.S. T. Coleridge
Thou closely clingest to thy mother's arms,
Nestling thy little face in that fond breast
Whose anxious heavings lull thee to thy rest!
Man's breathing miniature.
S. T. Coleridge
S. T. Coleridge
SEPTEMBER SEVENTEENTH
A lisping voice and glancing eyes are near,And ever restless feet of one, who nowGathers the blossoms of her fourth bright year.Bryant
A lisping voice and glancing eyes are near,And ever restless feet of one, who nowGathers the blossoms of her fourth bright year.Bryant
A lisping voice and glancing eyes are near,
And ever restless feet of one, who now
Gathers the blossoms of her fourth bright year.
Bryant
Bryant
Reprinted from Bryant's Complete Poetical Works by permission of D. Appleton & Co.
SEPTEMBER EIGHTEENTH
Once was she wealthy, with small cares,And small hands clinging to her knees.Lizette Woodworth Reese
Once was she wealthy, with small cares,And small hands clinging to her knees.Lizette Woodworth Reese
Once was she wealthy, with small cares,
And small hands clinging to her knees.
Lizette Woodworth Reese
Lizette Woodworth Reese
SEPTEMBER NINETEENTH
I, a woman, wife and mother,What have I to do with art?Are ye not my noblest pictures,Portraits painted from my heart?Margaret J. Preston
I, a woman, wife and mother,What have I to do with art?Are ye not my noblest pictures,Portraits painted from my heart?Margaret J. Preston
I, a woman, wife and mother,
What have I to do with art?
Are ye not my noblest pictures,
Portraits painted from my heart?
Margaret J. Preston
Margaret J. Preston
SEPTEMBER TWENTIETH
It was a little Child who swungWide back that city's portalsWhere hearts remain forever young;And all things good and pure among,Shall childhood be immortal.Lucy Larcom
It was a little Child who swungWide back that city's portalsWhere hearts remain forever young;And all things good and pure among,Shall childhood be immortal.Lucy Larcom
It was a little Child who swung
Wide back that city's portals
Where hearts remain forever young;
And all things good and pure among,
Shall childhood be immortal.
Lucy Larcom
Lucy Larcom
SEPTEMBER TWENTY-FIRST
The mother, with sweet pious face,Turns toward her little children from her seat,Gives one a kiss, another an embrace,Takes this upon her knees, that upon her feet:And, while from actions, looks, complaints, pretences,She learns their feelings and their various will,To this a look, to that a word dispenses,And, whether stern or smiling, loves them still.Filicaia
The mother, with sweet pious face,Turns toward her little children from her seat,Gives one a kiss, another an embrace,Takes this upon her knees, that upon her feet:And, while from actions, looks, complaints, pretences,She learns their feelings and their various will,To this a look, to that a word dispenses,And, whether stern or smiling, loves them still.Filicaia
The mother, with sweet pious face,
Turns toward her little children from her seat,
Gives one a kiss, another an embrace,
Takes this upon her knees, that upon her feet:
And, while from actions, looks, complaints, pretences,
She learns their feelings and their various will,
To this a look, to that a word dispenses,
And, whether stern or smiling, loves them still.
Filicaia
Filicaia
SEPTEMBER TWENTY-SECOND
A living book is mine—In age three years: in it I read no lies,In it to myriad truths I find the clue—A tender little child; but I divineThoughts high as Dante's in her clear blue eyes.Maurice Francis Egan
A living book is mine—In age three years: in it I read no lies,In it to myriad truths I find the clue—A tender little child; but I divineThoughts high as Dante's in her clear blue eyes.Maurice Francis Egan
A living book is mine—
A living book is mine—
In age three years: in it I read no lies,
In it to myriad truths I find the clue—
A tender little child; but I divine
Thoughts high as Dante's in her clear blue eyes.
Maurice Francis Egan
Maurice Francis Egan
Maurice Francis Egan
SEPTEMBER TWENTY-THIRD
That pure shrineOf childhood, though my love be trueIs hidden from my dim confine.Author unknown
That pure shrineOf childhood, though my love be trueIs hidden from my dim confine.Author unknown
That pure shrine
That pure shrine
Of childhood, though my love be true
Is hidden from my dim confine.
Author unknown
Author unknown
Author unknown
SEPTEMBER TWENTY-FOURTH
Their glance might cast out pain and sin,Their speech make dumb the wise;By mute glad Godhead felt withinA baby's eyes.Swinburne
Their glance might cast out pain and sin,Their speech make dumb the wise;By mute glad Godhead felt withinA baby's eyes.Swinburne
Their glance might cast out pain and sin,
Their speech make dumb the wise;
By mute glad Godhead felt within
A baby's eyes.Swinburne
A baby's eyes.
Swinburne
Swinburne
SEPTEMBER TWENTY-FIFTH
Lulla-lo! to the rise and fall of mother's bosom't is sleep has bound you,And oh, my child, what cosier nest for rosier restcould love have found you?Sleep, baby dear,Sleep without fear:Mother's two arms are clasped around you.Alfred Percival Gates
Lulla-lo! to the rise and fall of mother's bosom't is sleep has bound you,And oh, my child, what cosier nest for rosier restcould love have found you?Sleep, baby dear,Sleep without fear:Mother's two arms are clasped around you.Alfred Percival Gates
Lulla-lo! to the rise and fall of mother's bosom
't is sleep has bound you,
't is sleep has bound you,
And oh, my child, what cosier nest for rosier rest
could love have found you?Sleep, baby dear,Sleep without fear:
could love have found you?
Sleep, baby dear,Sleep without fear:
Sleep, baby dear,
Sleep without fear:
Mother's two arms are clasped around you.
Alfred Percival Gates
Alfred Percival Gates
Alfred Percival Gates
Alfred Percival Gates
SEPTEMBER TWENTY-SIXTH
And if no clustering swarm of beesOn thy sweet mouth distilled their golden dew,'T was that such vulgar miraclesHeaven had not leisure to renew:For all the blest fraternity of loveSolemnized there thy birth, and kept thy holiday above.John Dryden
And if no clustering swarm of beesOn thy sweet mouth distilled their golden dew,'T was that such vulgar miraclesHeaven had not leisure to renew:For all the blest fraternity of loveSolemnized there thy birth, and kept thy holiday above.John Dryden
And if no clustering swarm of bees
On thy sweet mouth distilled their golden dew,
'T was that such vulgar miracles
Heaven had not leisure to renew:
For all the blest fraternity of love
Solemnized there thy birth, and kept thy holiday above.
John Dryden
John Dryden
SEPTEMBER TWENTY-SEVENTH
Sublimity always is simpleBoth in sermon and song, a child can seize on the meaning.Longfellow
Sublimity always is simpleBoth in sermon and song, a child can seize on the meaning.Longfellow
Sublimity always is simple
Both in sermon and song, a child can seize on the meaning.
Longfellow
Longfellow
SEPTEMBER TWENTY-EIGHTH
Take thy joy and revel in it,Living through each golden minute,Trusting God who gave you thisBaby child to love and kiss.From "The Finest Baby in the World"
Take thy joy and revel in it,Living through each golden minute,Trusting God who gave you thisBaby child to love and kiss.From "The Finest Baby in the World"
Take thy joy and revel in it,
Living through each golden minute,
Trusting God who gave you this
Baby child to love and kiss.
From "The Finest Baby in the World"
From "The Finest Baby in the World"
SEPTEMBER TWENTY-NINTH
Still smile at even on the bedded child,And close his eyelids with thy silver wand.Hood
Still smile at even on the bedded child,And close his eyelids with thy silver wand.Hood
Still smile at even on the bedded child,
And close his eyelids with thy silver wand.
Hood
Hood
SEPTEMBER THIRTIETH
Of such is the kingdom of heaven,No glory that ever was shedFrom the crowning star of the sevenThat crown the North world's head,No word that ever was spokenOf human or godlike tongueGave ever such godlike tokenSince human harps were strung.Swinburne
Of such is the kingdom of heaven,No glory that ever was shedFrom the crowning star of the sevenThat crown the North world's head,No word that ever was spokenOf human or godlike tongueGave ever such godlike tokenSince human harps were strung.Swinburne
Of such is the kingdom of heaven,
No glory that ever was shed
From the crowning star of the seven
That crown the North world's head,
No word that ever was spoken
Of human or godlike tongue
Gave ever such godlike token
Since human harps were strung.
Swinburne
Swinburne
OCTOBER
OCTOBER FIRST
Little lamb, asleep and still,God protect thee from all ill;Those who love thee ne'er can beFree from pain in loving thee.From "The Finest Baby in the World"
Little lamb, asleep and still,God protect thee from all ill;Those who love thee ne'er can beFree from pain in loving thee.From "The Finest Baby in the World"
Little lamb, asleep and still,
God protect thee from all ill;
Those who love thee ne'er can be
Free from pain in loving thee.
From "The Finest Baby in the World"
From "The Finest Baby in the World"
OCTOBER SECOND
Then, when Mamma goes by to bed,She shall come in with tiptoe tread,And see me lying warm and fastAnd in the land of Nod at last.Robert Louis Stevenson
Then, when Mamma goes by to bed,She shall come in with tiptoe tread,And see me lying warm and fastAnd in the land of Nod at last.Robert Louis Stevenson
Then, when Mamma goes by to bed,
She shall come in with tiptoe tread,
And see me lying warm and fast
And in the land of Nod at last.
Robert Louis Stevenson
Robert Louis Stevenson