Some day you'll know
How closely to one's heart a son can cling.
Racine
SEPTEMBER ELEVENTH
Thy sports, thy wanderings, when a child,
Were ever in the sylvan wild,
And all the beauty of the place
Is in thy heart and on thy face.
Bryant
Reprinted from Bryant's Complete Poetical Works by permission of D. Appleton & Co.
SEPTEMBER TWELFTH
It was a childish ignorance,
But now 't is little joy
To know I'm farther off from heaven
Than when I was a boy.
Hood
SEPTEMBER THIRTEENTH
Sweet babe! True portrait of thy father's face,
Sleep on the bosom that thy lips have pressed!
Sleep little one; and closely, gently place
Thy drowsy eyelids on thy mother's breast.
Longfellow
SEPTEMBER FOURTEENTH
That land of glorious mystery
Whither we all are wending,
A lonely sort of heaven will be,
If there no baby-family
Await my love and tending.
Lucy Larcom