I hold you in my arms your age is told in months.
There’s things I hope you’ll learn.
Things I’m sure I learned once.
But there’s nothing I can teach you.
You’ll find all that you need.
No flower bends its head to offer teaching to a seed.
The seed will grow and blossom once the flower’s ground to dust.
But even so, if nothing else one thing I’ll entrust:
Doing what you please is not the same as doing what you must.

Kai Tempest

Sweet and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,
Wind of the western sea!
Over the rolling waters go,
Come from the dying moon and blow,
Blow him again to me;
While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.
Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother’s breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west,
Under the silver moon:
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.

Lord Alfred Tennyson

A baby’s feet, like sea shells pink,
Might tempt, should heaven see meet
An angel’s lips to kiss, we think,
A baby’s feet.
Like rose-hued sea flowers toward the heat
They stretch and spread and wink
Their ten soft buds that part and meet.
No flower bells that expand and shrink
Gleam half so heavenly sweet,
As shine on life’s untrodden brink
A baby’s feet.

Algernon Charles Swinburne

From groves of spice, 
O’er fields of rice, 
Athwart the lotus-stream,
I bring for you, 
A glint with dew 
A little lovely dream. 
Sweet, shut your eyes, 
The wild fire-flies 
Dance through the fairy neem; 
From the poppy-bole
For you I stole 
A little lovely dream. 
Dear eyes, good-night, 
In golden light 
The stars around you gleam; 
On you I press 
With soft caress 
A little lovely dream.

Sarojini Naidu

‘I have no name:
‘I am but two days old.’
What shall I call thee?
‘I happy am
Joy is my name.’
Sweet joy befall thee!
Pretty joy!
Sweet joy but two days old,
Sweet joy I call thee:
Thou dost smile,
I sing the while,
Sweet joy befall thee!

William Blake

Mother, I love you so.
Said the child, I love you more than I know.
She laid her head on her mother’s arm,
And the love between them kept them warm.

Stevie Smith

I know a baby, such a baby,—
Round blue eyes and cheeks of pink,
Such an elbow furrowed with dimples, 
Such a wrist where creases sink.
“Cuddle and love me, cuddle and love me,”
Crows the mouth of coral pink:
Oh the bald head, and oh the sweet lips,
And oh the sleepy eyes that wink!

Christina Rossetti

Children born of fairy stock
Never need for shirt or frock,
Never want for food or fire,
Always get their heart’s desire:
Jingle pockets full of gold,
Marry when they’re seven years old,
Every fairy child may keep
Two strong ponies and ten sheep;
All have houses, each his own,
Built of brick or granite stone;
They live on cherries, they run wild –
I’d love to be a Fairy’s child.

Robert Graves

Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.

Kahlil Gibran

Baby mine, with the grave, grave face, 
Where did you get that royal calm, 
Too staid for joy, too still for grace? 
I bend as I kiss your pink, soft palm. 
Are you the first of a nobler race, 
Baby mine? 
You come from the region of long ago, 
And gazing awhile where the seraphs dwell 
Has given your face a glory and glow. 
Of that brighter land have you aught to tell? 
I seem to have known it; I more would know 
Baby mine. 
Your calm, blue eyes have a far-off reach. 
Look at me now with those wondrous eyes 
Why are we doomed to the gift of speech 
While you are silent and sweet and wise? 
You have much to learn; you have more to teach, 
Baby mine. 

Frederick Locker-Lampson

Do I love you
to the moon and back?
No I love you
more than that
I love you to the desert sands
the mountains, stars
the planets and
I love you to the deepest sea
and deeper still
through history
Before beyond I love you then
I love you now
I’ll love you when
The sun’s gone out
the moon’s gone home
and all the stars are fully grown
When I no longer say these words
I’ll give them to the wind, the birds
so that they will still be heard
I love you

James Carter