A Mother's Year Book

by Unknown

If the golden-crested wren

Were a nightingale, why, then

Something seen and heard of men

Might be half as sweet as when

Laughs a child of seven.

Swinburne

APRIL TWENTY-FOURTH

O little ones whom I have found

Among earth's green paths playing,

Though listening far behind, around,

There comes to me no sweeter sound

Than words I hear you saying.

Lucy Larcom

APRIL TWENTY-FIFTH

A child sees what we are, behind what we wish

to be.

Amiel

APRIL TWENTY-SIXTH

Dear Child! how radiant on thy Mother's knee,

With merry-making eyes and jocund smiles,

Thou gazest at the painted tiles.

Longfellow

APRIL TWENTY-SEVENTH

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:

The soul that rises with us, our life's star,

Hath had elsewhere its setting,

And cometh from afar;

Not in entire forgetfulness

And not in utter nakedness,

But trailing clouds of glory do we come

From God, who is our home.

Wordsworth

APRIL TWENTY-EIGHTH