Ah! then, what words can tell the bliss,
The rapture of the fond embrace,
When mother's lips on baby's face,
Feast and are feasted with a kiss?
And who can tell of hands and feet
The dimpled wonders, hidden charms,
The dainty curves of legs and arms,
So sweet and soft, so soft and sweet?
This is the world's possession still.
The treasure-trove of wedded hearts,
Whereby a Father's love imparts
His joy, their gladness to fulfil.