WHEN tiny babes we touch on brow and breast, Making them God's the while, We murmur: "Take and keep, Thy keep is best," And tearfully we smile. And when, lapsed back to childhood's witless ways, All helpless in our hands, Poor souls, they walk as in a dim-lit haze -- What myriads in what lands! Then, with awed lips, we look to the divine, Striving to still our fears, And say: "They seem not ours, they @3must@1 be Thine," -- Wetting them with our tears. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE LAST RESERVATION by WALTER LEARNED THE BABIE by JEREMIAH EAMES RANKIN MANASSAS [JULY 21, 1861] by CATHERINE ANNE WARFIELD WINTER TREE by WALTER R. ADAMS WITHER AWAY by THOMAS HAYNES BAYLY ROMANCE OF DUNOIS by HORTENSE DE BEAUHARNAIS |