And put her tiny hand within my own
And smiled, her rosy lips a flower,
The light within her eyes,
from heaven shone.
And when I crossed the fields
the birds were singing,
A golden blossom in my pathway lay,
It wasn't much; but oh,
the joy there's in it,
To have a baby smile at you
In just that way.
--Marguerite A. Gutschow
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