Poems (E. L. F.)/Little voices

by E. L. F.

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 me
One long soft gush of melody,
And bright that woman's home for ever,
Where "little voices" twine together.