Of all the cares, and all the cries,
Ere you were old, you sprite, like me.
And then I saw these tiny ears,
And thought of how they both would grow,
And thrill and tremble, ere the years
Had taught them all they had to know.
I saw these dainty limbs here, too,
That run and jump and snatch and throw;
And thought how little mine can do—
Ah me, not always was it so!