* * The poetry of Ruth T. Whittlesey * *

Baby Girl

Down in the valley the violets

Are hiding their faces blue,

Timidly under their big, green leaves

And sipping the morning dew.

Out in the bright, morning sunshine

Up on the verdant hills,

Tossing their saucy heads in the wind

Wave golden daffodils.

Here in the garden the big, red rose,

With grace and dignity,

Reigns undefied in the flower bed

In truth and majesty.

Up in the nursery our baby girl,

With eyes of violet blue,

With curls like the golden daffodils

And cheeks of the roses' hue.

She is bashful as the violets,

As happy as the daffodils,

As lovely as the red, red rose;

Like the flowers our hearts she thrills.

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