Oh those little, those little blue shoes!
Those shoes that no little feet use.
Oh, the price read more

Oh those little, those little blue shoes!
Those shoes that no little feet use.
Oh, the price were high
That those shoes would buy,
Those little blue unused shoes!

The hair she means to have is gold,
Her eyes are blue, she's twelve weeks old,
Plump read more

The hair she means to have is gold,
Her eyes are blue, she's twelve weeks old,
Plump are her fists and pinky.
She fluttered down in lucky hour
From some blue deep in yon sky bower--
I call her "Little Dinky."

Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained
strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest read more

Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained
strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the
enemy and the avenger.

When you fold your hands, Baby Louise!
Your hands like a fairy's, so tiny and fair,
With read more

When you fold your hands, Baby Louise!
Your hands like a fairy's, so tiny and fair,
With a pretty, innocent, saintlike air,
Are you trying to think of some angel-taught prayer
You learned above, Baby Louise.

A baby was sleeping,
Its mother was weeping.

A baby was sleeping,
Its mother was weeping.

Look! how he laughs and stretches out his arms,
And opens wide his blue eyes upon thine,
read more

Look! how he laughs and stretches out his arms,
And opens wide his blue eyes upon thine,
To hail his father; while his little form
Flutters as winged with joy. Talk not of pain!
The childless cherubs well might envy thee
The pleasures of a parent.

A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,
Perplex'd with the newly found fardel of life.

A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,
Perplex'd with the newly found fardel of life.

Sweet is the infant's waking smile,
And sweet the old man's rest--
But middle age by no read more

Sweet is the infant's waking smile,
And sweet the old man's rest--
But middle age by no fond wile,
No soothing calm is blest.

O child! O new-born denizen
Of life's great city! on thy head
The glory of morn is read more

O child! O new-born denizen
Of life's great city! on thy head
The glory of morn is shed,
Like a celestial benison!
Here at the portal thou dost stand,
And with thy little hand
Thou openest the mysterious gate
Into the future's undiscovered land.