Edith (Nesbit) Bland (1858–1924)

(From “The Moat-House”)

OH, baby, baby, baby dear,

We lie alone together here;

The snowy gown and cap and sheet

With lavender are fresh and sweet;

Through half-closed blinds the roses peer

To see and love you, baby dear.

We are so tired, we like to lie

Just doing nothing, you and I,

Within the darkened quiet room.

The sun sends dusk rays through the gloom,

Which is no gloom since you are here,

My little life, my baby dear.

Soft sleepy mouth so vaguely pressed

Against your new-made mother’s breast,

Soft little hands in mine I fold,

Soft little feet I kiss and hold,

Round soft smooth head and tiny ear,

All mine, my own, my baby dear.

And he we love is far away!

But he will come some happy day.

You need but me, and I can rest

At peace with you beside me pressed.

There are no questions, longings vain,

No murmuring, nor doubt, nor pain,

Only content and we are here,

My baby dear.