AUGUST TWENTY-SEVENTH
Perpetual care and joy of our life, our despotic
flatterers, greedy for the very least pleasure, frankly
selfish, instinctively sure of their too legitimate
independence—children are our masters, no matter
how firm we may pretend to be with them.
George Sand
AUGUST TWENTY-EIGHTH
And now, the rosy children come to play,
And romp and struggle with the new-mown hay;
Their clear high voices sound from far away.
Edmund Gosse
AUGUST TWENTY-NINTH
For the house that was childless awhile, and the
light of it darkened, and the pulse of it dwindled,
Rings radiant again with a child's bright feet,
with the light of his face is rekindled.
Swinburne
AUGUST THIRTIETH
My teachers are the children themselves, with
all their purity, their innocence, their
unconsciousness and their irresistible charms.
Froebel
AUGUST THIRTY-FIRST
Women-folks said she was like her father—men-folks
said she was like her mother—but the wisest
people always said she was like us both.
From "The Finest Baby in the World"