Poems (Kimball)/The Baby I love

by Harriet McEwen Kimball

THE BABY I LOVE.

   THIS is the baby I love!
The baby that cannot talk;
   The baby that cannot walk;
The baby that just begins to creep;
The baby that's cuddled and rocked to sleep;
   Oh, this is the baby I love!

   This is the baby I love!
   The baby that's never cross;
   The baby papa can toss;
The baby that crows when held aloft;
The baby that's rosy and round and soft
   Oh, this is the baby I love!

   This is the baby I love!
   The baby that laughs when I peep
   To see is it still asleep;
The baby that coos and frowns and blinks
When left alone—as it sometimes thinks;
   Oh, this is the baby I love!

   This is the baby I love!
   The baby that lies on my knee
   And dimples and smiles at me
While I strip it, and bathe it, and kiss it—oh!—
Till with bathing and kissing 't is all aglow;
   Yes, this is the baby I love!

   This is the baby I love!
   The baby all freshly dressed;
   That waking is never at rest;
That plucks at my collar and pulls my hair
Till I look like a witch, but I do not care;
   Oh, this is the baby I love!

   This is the baby I love!
   The baby that understands;
   And dances with feet and hands
And a sweet little whinnying eager cry
For the nice warm breakfast that waits it close by;
   Oh, this is the baby I love!

   This is the baby I love!
   The baby that tries to talk;
   The baby that longs to walk;
And oh! its mamma will wake some day
To find that her baby has—run away!
   My baby—the baby I love!