little voices.
Little mouthings of each word,
All so sweet, yet so absurd;
Little snatches of a song,
Music right, and words all wrong;
Little memories of an hour,
Fading like a spring-tide flower.
Little hopes, and little joys,
Each entrance, like treasured toys;
Sunny smiles, and April tears,
Such the life of infant years;
Little patterings of feet,
Moving onward, fast and fleet;—
These are sounds that make to me
One long soft gush of melody,
And bright that woman's home for ever,
Where "little voices" twine together.
All so sweet, yet so absurd;
Little snatches of a song,
Music right, and words all wrong;
Little memories of an hour,
Fading like a spring-tide flower.
Little hopes, and little joys,
Each entrance, like treasured toys;
Sunny smiles, and April tears,
Such the life of infant years;
Little patterings of feet,
Moving onward, fast and fleet;—
These are sounds that make to me
One long soft gush of melody,
And bright that woman's home for ever,
Where "little voices" twine together.
154
