soft as a babies down
it is a clown
the mirth of a clown
the heat from the heart
is the genuine art
the child may be wild
it is fair
that the child breathes air
do you care
the heart is warm
the love we feel
it is real
the child carries us
to the dream
that is and must be
can you not see
the baby is sweet
it is neat
love is what we do
for our children
are loved
we suspect they are angels
that walk with thee
can you not see
who we see,
babies yearn to be
with thee
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