The Cadiz Sentinel

Choice Poetry.

LITTLE PEOPLE.

A dreary place would be the earth,
Were there no little people in it:
The song of life would lose its mirth,
Were there no children to begin it.
No little forms, like buds to grow,
And make the admiring heart surrender:
No little hands on breast and brow,
To keep the thrilling love-cords tender.
No babe within our arms to leap,
No little feet toward slumber tending:
No little knee in prayer to bend,
Or little lips the sweet words blending.
What would the ladies do for work,
Were there no pants nor jackets tearing?
No tiny dresses to embroider?
No cradle for their watchful caring?
No rosy boys at wintry morn
With satchel to the school house hasting?
No merry shouts as home they rush;
No precious morsel for their tasting.
Tall, grave, grown people at the door:
Tall, grave grown people at the table;
The men of business all intent,
The dames loquacious as they're able.
The sterner souls would get more stern,
Unfeeling natures more inhuman,
And man to stoic coldness turn,
And woman would be less than woman
For in that clime toward which we reach
Thro' Time's mysterious, dim unfolding
The little ones, with cherub smile,
Are still our Father's face beholding.
So said His voice in whom we trust,
When in Judea's realm a preacher
He made a child confront the proud,
And be in simple guise their teacher.
Life's song, indeed, would lose its charm,
Were there no babies to begin it;
A doleful place this world would be,
Were there no little people in it.