Baby Laughter

Little Lady Four-year-old
Ful of fun as you can hold,
Long before a merry sound
Bubbles up and flows around,
Laughter sparkles in your eyes
Like the light of summer skies,
Deeper than a dimple grows,
Starting from its sweet repose,
To a motion sweeter still
As the mirth will have its will;
Then a sudden tremor trips
O’er the rosebud of the lips,
And a singing laugh sets free
All its resonance of glee!

Something like it we have heard
In the trills of brook and bird
And the lives the Spring has stirred
Swallows twittering round the eaves
Blackbirds whistling through the leaves,
Chatter of a hundred tongues
When the “peepers” try their lungs;
Rattle of the sudden rain
Slant against the window pane,
Span-high cascades tumbling down
Among pebbles golden brown
Like your tresses; and one guesses
That your frolic heart is fed
From the same life’s fountain-head
Welling in your little breast
Bubbling pool and warbling nest,
And what e’er of pure arrives
From the Giver of all lives.

But your laugh has something deeper
Than the joy of bird and peeper;
And the gurgle of the spring
No such melody can bring.
Baby-love to baby-mirth
Gives unutterable worth,
Every listener shares the joy – 
Gray beard, girl, and sturdy boy;
Mother feels an echo thrill
To her bosom deep and still,
Aye the verist alien eyes
Kindle with a glad surprise.
And you happy mood long while
Goes with him, an inward smile
That shines outward and confers
Grace, though not a fibre stirs.
You may number as your kin
All who hear your merry din, 
And your lover of four-score
Have no years beyond your four!

Such a charm is in your laugh
Song cannot express it half;
In itself alone ‘tis told,
Sooth, My Lady Four-Year Old!