Toggle Dropdown Serif Sans-serif Monospaced Dyslexic Bold Italic Font size: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 Mark as read [object Object] Only page of title 87 4 Fairly Easy I list your prattle, baby boy, And hear your pattering feet With feelings more of pain than joy And thoughts of bitter-sweet. While touching your soft hands in play Such passionate longings rise For my wee boy who strayed away So soon to Paradise. You win me with your infant art; But when our play is o'er, The empty cradle in my heart Seems lonelier than before. Sweet baby boy, you do not guess How oft mine eyes are dim, Or that my lingering caress Is sometimes meant for _him_. End of title Sign in to unlock this title Sign in to continue reading, it's free! As an unregistered user you can only read a little bit. Links External resources bookshop Wikipedia Project Gutenberg Goodreads Google Books
I list your prattle, baby boy, And hear your pattering feet With feelings more of pain than joy And thoughts of bitter-sweet.
While touching your soft hands in play Such passionate longings rise For my wee boy who strayed away So soon to Paradise.
You win me with your infant art; But when our play is o'er, The empty cradle in my heart Seems lonelier than before.
Sweet baby boy, you do not guess How oft mine eyes are dim, Or that my lingering caress Is sometimes meant for _him_.
