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[Newspaper clipping]

A BABY'S LANGUAGE.
Well, I declare! You little laughing
lassie,
Cheeks as pink as roses and as full
of sweetness, too,
Eyes as bright as star shine on a lily
pond that's glassy,
Everything you look at is a wonder
thing to you.
Hold your arms out to me and let
merry laughter shake you,
And then one thing's very certain, your
old dad will come and take you.

Well, I declare! You're so small, yet
domineering,
You can't walk or talk or tell the
time, and yet you make it plain
By your cooing and your squealing that
you'll stand no interfering
With the wishes you're expressing
and the joys you reach to gain.
Men may string their words together
and real poetry it may be,
But the sweetest language spoken is
the language of a baby.

Well, I declare! By your cooing and
your laughter
And your five small teeth which
glisten when you break into a
smile,
You are very, very tiny, but you get
what you are after,
For you know your dad will weaken
if you worry him awhile.
So go and play the tyrant, have no fear
that he'll forsake you --
When you hold your arms out that way
he will always come and take you.

--Edgar A. Guest.
(Copyright, 1923, by Edgar A. Guest.)