WHAT THE BABIES SAY.
WHAT things the babies say are listened toAs if the little heads were brimming o’erWith pretty fancies, such as ne’er beforeTook form in human mind—as if they knewThe glories of the world, or false or true.And with their careless-clutching fingers toreFrom Miss Pandora’s box the bitter store(If pleased) and handed out the sweets to you.O baby lips, whose lispings we repeat,O baby tongue, so eager in attainingThe power through which your wishes may be heard;May you remain forever pure and sweet,And ne’er in anger move, but uncomplaining,And ever by the noblest promptings stirred.
WHAT things the babies say are listened toAs if the little heads were brimming o’erWith pretty fancies, such as ne’er beforeTook form in human mind—as if they knewThe glories of the world, or false or true.And with their careless-clutching fingers toreFrom Miss Pandora’s box the bitter store(If pleased) and handed out the sweets to you.O baby lips, whose lispings we repeat,O baby tongue, so eager in attainingThe power through which your wishes may be heard;May you remain forever pure and sweet,And ne’er in anger move, but uncomplaining,And ever by the noblest promptings stirred.
WHAT things the babies say are listened toAs if the little heads were brimming o’erWith pretty fancies, such as ne’er beforeTook form in human mind—as if they knewThe glories of the world, or false or true.And with their careless-clutching fingers toreFrom Miss Pandora’s box the bitter store(If pleased) and handed out the sweets to you.
WHAT things the babies say are listened to
As if the little heads were brimming o’er
With pretty fancies, such as ne’er before
Took form in human mind—as if they knew
The glories of the world, or false or true.
And with their careless-clutching fingers tore
From Miss Pandora’s box the bitter store
(If pleased) and handed out the sweets to you.
O baby lips, whose lispings we repeat,O baby tongue, so eager in attainingThe power through which your wishes may be heard;May you remain forever pure and sweet,And ne’er in anger move, but uncomplaining,And ever by the noblest promptings stirred.
O baby lips, whose lispings we repeat,
O baby tongue, so eager in attaining
The power through which your wishes may be heard;
May you remain forever pure and sweet,
And ne’er in anger move, but uncomplaining,
And ever by the noblest promptings stirred.