Were there no little people in it;
The song of life would lose its mirth
Were there no children to begin it;
"No little forms, like buds to grow,
And make the admiring heart surrender;
No little hands, on breast and brow,
To keep the thrilling love-chords tender.
"No babe within our arms to leap,
No little feet towards slumber tending;
No little knee in prayer to bend,