If I am your baby, please touch me. I need your touch in ways you may never know. Don’t just wash and change and feed me, but rock me close, kiss my face and stroke my body. Your soothing, gentle touch says security and love. If I am your child,

I have always seen life for what it really is. Ever since I was a child growing up, hard times are all I know. I had to sit back and watch my mother work from sunset to sundown. I had to sit back and watch my mother work herself to

I enter the home of poverty, causing pale-faced children to open their eyes wide in pleased wonder. I cause the miser’s clutched hand to relax, and thus paint a bright spot on his soul. I cause the aged to renew their youth and to laugh in the glad old way.

The world is against me, he said with a sigh. Somebody stops every scheme that I try. The world has me down and it’s keeping me there; I don’t get a chance. Oh, the world is unfair! When a fellow is poor then he can’t get a show; The world

Because it rains when we wish it wouldn’t, Because men do what they often shouldn’t, Because crops fail, and plans go wrong- Some of us grumble all day long. But somehow, in spite of the care and doubt, It seems at last that things work out. Because we lose where

When you’re up against a trouble, Meet it squarely, face to face; Lift your chin and set your shoulders, Plant your feet and take a brace. When it’s vain to try to dodge it, Do the best that you can do; You may fail, but you may conquer, See it

Watching the world through a blacked-out window You see no sun, Yet people see light shining in your eyes, You are the sun for others Watching children play, wishing you were them, You start to cry, People see your child- like tears, Yet nobody seems to care Giving light to

Out through the fields and the woods And over the walls I have wended; I have climbed the hills of view And looked at the world, and descended; I have come by the highway home, And lo, it is ended. The leaves are all dead on the ground, Save those

Childhood, sweet and sunny childhood, With its careless, thoughtless air, Like the verdant, tangled wildwood, Wants the training hand of care. See it springing all around us – Glad to know, and quick to learn; Asking questions that confound us; Teaching lessons in its turn. Who loves not its joyous

The park bench was deserted as I sat down to read Beneath the long, straggly branches of an old willow tree. Disillusioned by life with good reason to frown, For the world was intent on dragging me down. And if that weren’t enough to ruin my day, A young boy

All things bright and beautiful, All creatures great and small, All things wise and wonderful, The Lord God made them all. Each little flower that opens, Each little bird that sings, He made their glowing colors, He made their tiny wings. The rich man in his castle, The poor man

I WONDER about the trees. Why do we wish to bear Forever the noise of these More than another noise So close to our dwelling place We suffer them by the day Till we lose all measure of pace, And fixity in our joys, And acquire a listening air. They

Come, walk with me, There’s only thee To bless my spirit now - We used to love on winter nights To wander through the snow; Can we not woo back old delights The clouds rush dark and wild They fleck with shade our mountain heights The same as long ago

In the night with the fragrance of flowers I was thinking about the world…….. so many thoughts, so many worries, I was thinking about myself……… So many concerns, So many duties, The night was passing like this only….. In the web of thoughts, I was putting more knots of many

Yesterday a butterfly Came floating gently through the sky. He soared up through the atmosphere Then drifted close enough to hear. I said, I’d love to fly with you And sail around the way you do. It looks like it would be such fun To fly up toward the summer

Life passes by so fast, Lord, I know I’m sure to miss A vital part unless you keep Reminding me of this. There’s so much that I want to do, A lot I’ve left undone, So many plans discarded, And a few I’ve not begun. Life passes by so fast,

The day is done, and the darkness Falls from the wings of Night, As a feather is wafted downward From an eagle in his flight. I see the lights of the village Gleam through the rain and the mist, And a feeling of sadness comes o’er me That my soul

Take this kiss upon the brow! And, in parting from you now, Thus much let me avow- You are not wrong, who deem That my days have been a dream; Yet if hope has flown away In a night, or in a day, In a vision, or in none, Is