Friday, September 5, 2014

Babies don't keep


These pictures show what a huge part of my days consists of. Benjamin has rocked my world, made me fall in love head over heels, and taught me the value of stillness. The bags under my eyes are worse for wear and my house is less tidy, but my arms are always full, and oh, how I wish they would forever remain this way!

This poem by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton is everything. Every word. Every day.


Mother, O mother, come shake out your cloth,
empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
hang out the washing, make up the bed,
sew on a button, and butter the bread.



Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
she's up in the nursery blissfully rocking.




Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
lullaby, rockabye, lullabye loo. 


Dishes are waiting and bills are past due,
pat-a-cake darling, and peek, peekaboo.


The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew, 
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo.



But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo,
look! aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue? 
lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.


The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow,
but children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow,
so quiet down cobwebs, dust go to sleep,
I'm rocking my baby, and babies don't keep.










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