Poems (E. L. F.)/Little voices
LITTLE VOICES.
Little voices come to me, Sweet o'er the morning air;Heart-stirring greetings, sent to be A solace from life's care.
Little voices breathe to me A music all their own—A strain of heavenly harmony, For ever moving on.
Little voices full of glee And laughter-loving mirth;Life seems but one long joy to be— No shadows on the earth.
Little voices prattling on,Making music of each tone; 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 meOne long soft gush of melody,And bright that woman's home for ever,Where "little voices" twine together.