The World's Need

Methought a great wind swept across the earth, And all the toilers perished. Then I Pale terror blanch the rosy face of mirth

I am all tired out, said the mouth, with a pout, I am all tired out with talk. Just wait, said the knee, till you're lame as you can be—And then have to walk—walk—walk. My work, said the hand, is the hardest in the land.

The cunningest thing that a baby can Is the very first time it plays peek-a-boo; When it hides its pink little face in its hands, And crows, and shows that it

This little toe is hungry—This little toe is too, This toe lies abed like a sleepy head, And this toe cries "Boo-hoo."This toe big and tall is the smartest of For he pops into stocking and shoe.

There is no chance, no destiny, no fate, Can circumvent or hinder or control The firm resolve of a determined soul. Gifts count for nothing; will alone is great;

In grandmamma's kitchen, things got in a riot—The cream in a pot on the shelf, Where everything always seemed peaceful and quiet, Got whipped, for I heard it myself. And grandmamma said—such a queer thing to say

Lightly they hold him and lightly they sway him—Soft as a pillow are somebody's arms. Down he goes slowly, ever so Over the rim of the cradle they lay him—Baby's first journey is free from alarms. Baby is growing while Mama sings…

An infant wailing in nameless fear; A shadow, perchance, in the quiet room, Or the hum of an insect flying near, Or the screech-owl's cry, in the outer gloom.