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Babyhood: Quotations from Cyclopedia of Practical Quotations
Oh those little, those little blue shoes! Those shoes that no little feet use. Oh, the price were high That those shoes would buy, Those little blue unused shoes!— WILLIAM C. BENNETT — Baby's Shoes.
Sweet babe, in thy face Soft desires I can trace, Secret joys and secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.— WILLIAM BLAKE — A Cradle Song.
Sweet sleep, with soft down Weave thy brows an infant crown! Sweet sleep, angel mild, Hover o'er my happy child.— WILLIAM BLAKE — A Cradle Song.
That disease Of which all old men sicken, avarice.— THOMAS MIDDLETON — The Roaring Girl. Act I. Sc. 1.
Be niggards of advice on no pretence; For the worst avarice is that of sense.— POPE — Essay on Criticism. L. 578.
There grows, In my most ill-compos'd affection such A stanchless avarice, that, were I king, I should cut off the nobles for their lands.— Shakespeare — Macbeth. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 76.
There is thy gold; worse poison to men's souls.— Shakespeare — Romeo and Juliet. Act V. Sc. 1. L. 79.
This avarice Strikes deeper, grows with more pernicious root.— Shakespeare — Macbeth. Act IV. Sc. 3. L. 84.
Poverty is in want of much, but avarice of everything.— PUBLIUS SYRUS — Maxims. 441.
A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel, Perplex'd with the newly found fardel of life.— FRED. LOCKER — The Old Cradle.
The hair she means to have is gold, Her eyes are blue, she's twelve weeks old, Plump are her fists and pinky. She fluttered down in lucky hour From some blue deep in yon sky bower- I call her "Little Dinky."— FRED. LOCKER — Little Dinky.
O child! O new-born denizen Of life's great city! on thy head The glory of the morn is shed, Like a celestial benison! Here at the portal thou dost stand, And with thy little hand Thou openest the mysterious gate Into the future's undiscovered land.— LONGFELLOW — To a Child.
A baby was sleeping, Its mother was weeping.— SAMUEL LOVER — The Angel's Whisper.
Her beads while she numbered, The baby still slumbered, And smiled in her face, as she bended her knee; Oh! bless'd be that warning, My child, thy sleep adorning, For I know that the angels are whispering with thee.— SAMUEL LOVER — The Angel's Whisper.
He seemed a cherub who had lost his way And wandered hither, so his stay With us was short, and 'twas most meet That he should be no delver in earth's clod, Nor need to pause and cleanse his feet To stand before his God: O blest word-Evermore!— LOWELL — Threnodia.
How did they all just come to be you? God thought about me and so I grew.— GEO. MACDONALD — Song in "At The Back of The North Wind." Ch. 33.
Where did you come from, baby dear? Out of the Everywhere into here.— GEO. MACDONALD — Song in "At The Back of The North Wind." Ch. 33
And thou hast stolen a jewel, Death! Shall light thy dark up like a Star. A Beacon kindling from afar Our light of love and fainting faith.— GERALD MASSEY — Babe Christabel.
A sweet, new blossom of Humanity, Fresh fallen from God's own home to flower on earth.— GERALD MASSEY — Wooed and Won.
You scarce could think so small a thing Could leave a loss so large; Her little light such shadow fling From dawn to sunset's marge. In other springs our life may be In bannered bloom unfurled, But never, never match our wee White Rose of all the world.— GERALD MASSEY — Our Wee White Rose.
Wee Willie Winkie rins through the toun, Up stairs and doon stairs in his nicht-goun, Tirlin' at the window, cryin' at the lock, "Are the weans in their bed? for it's now ten o'clock."— WILLIAM MILLER — Willie Winkie.
When the baby died we said, With a sudden secret dread; "Death be merciful and pass ;- Leave the other!"-but alas! While we watched he waited there, One foot on the golden stair, One hand beckoning at the gate, Till the home was desolate.— NORA PERRY — Loss and Gain.
As living jewels dropped unstained from heaven.— POLLOCK — Course of Time. Bk. V. L. 158.
A daughter and a goodly babe, Lusty and like to live: the queen receives Much comfort in 't.— Shakespeare — Winter's Tale. Act II. Sc. 2. L. 27.
Fie, fie, how wayward is this foolish love That, like a testy babe, will scratch the nurse And presently all humbled kiss the rod !— Shakespeare — Two Gentlemen of Verona. Act I. Sc. 2. L. 57.
God mark thee to his grace! Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I nursed: An I might live to see thee married once, I have my wish.— Shakespeare — Romeo and Juliet. Act I. Sc. 3. L. 59.
Sleep, little baby! sleep!— CAROLINE SOUTHEY — In Vol. Entitled
Solitary Hours. To a Dying Infant. A little soul scarce fledged for earth Takes wing with heaven again for goal, Even while we hailed as fresh from birth A little soul.— SWINBURNE — A Baby's Death.
Beat upon mine, little heart! beat, beat! Beat upon mine! you are mine, my sweet! All mine from your pretty blue eyes to your feet, My sweet!— TENNYSON — Song from Romney's