My little, laughing

    Four-year-old,

My dancing, little

    Beam of gold,

You make this old, old heart of me

And all the world, brim full of glee ;

    As full as it can hold!

Your little, dancing,

    Slippered feet,

Your lilting, singing

    Voice and sweet,

Make life and work seem, simply play,

From morning when I go away

    Till night-time when we meet.

Your flying, wind-kissed,

    Golden curls,

Your laughing lips,

    The rows of pearls

You show in smiling, are to me

The rarest, fairest gems that be;

    O, best of little girls.

O, best of loving,

    Laughing girls,

When evening's crimson

    Flag unfurls

I come expectant up the street,

A-watching for your flying feet

    And tossing yellow curls.

O, little baby

    Girl, my own,

When trying, carking

    Years have flown,

Then may your laugh ring glad and clear,

Be just as full of joy and cheer,

    Dear heart, when you are grown.

Sing the South Table of Contents