Sunbeams through the door-way peep,
Shadows o'er the floor now creep;
Baby dear is rocked to sleep,
Careful watch the angels keep.
Rose-bud lips, too young to pray,
Tiny feet, too small to stray;
Dimpled hands, so tired with play,
Hushed in peaceful slumber lay.
Baby form, with face so fair,
Eyes of blue, and golden hair;
All the charm of beauty there,
Make her life a tender care.
Mother's heart is filled with pride,
As she lingers by her side;
Brother, sister, both must guide
Baby, through the world, so wide.
A Fictional Short Story by
Agnes Taylor Ketchum & Ida M. Jorgensen