Griggs Courier

Where The Kisses
Grow.

They leap from the soul of a baby
And then all over it spread
From the white and pink of its toe-tips,
To the halo of gold round its head;
From the depths of its dainty dimples,
From the roseate, laughter-turned lips
From the smooth, shapely neck and shoulders
To the tapering finger tips.

They're hidden within every heart-fold,
And cuddled down close to the core,
And, tho' they are evermore gathered,
Still I find them a thousand-fold more!
And each one seems softer and sweeter
Than the treasure I found just before-
Till I wonder if ever the sweetest
Is taken from baby's vast store.

So daily I search for and seize them,
And hourly I pluck a new prize-
Sometimes from the whitest of foreheads,
Sometimes from the brightest of eyes;
And I whisper-O! angel-kissed baby,
Do you feel-can you ever quite know-
Of the wonderful worth of these kisses
That ever continue to grow?

Of the wearisome woes that they soften?
Of the heart-cares they curtain from sight?
That their magic soars out through the sunshine,
And on thro' the knells of the night?

I hold that we're higher and better
For every fresh kiss that we take,
For every fond love-token given-
When given from sacred love's sake;
For, if purity's planted in earthdom
Then surely it springs from the soul
Of that beautiful, angel-like being,
As its life-page begins to unroll.

So I'll gather them early and often,
From the bright curly head to the toe,
I can't rob the wee tot of its treasures-
For still they'll continue to grow:
And in after-years there'll gleam a mem'ry
That backward forever will flow,
To that bonnie-eyed babe of the bygone,
Whose kisses no longer may grow.

-Detroit Free Press.