Pinker than the roses that enrich a summer's day, <br />Splashing in the bath tub or just kicking them in play, <br />Nothing in the skies above or earth below as sweet, <br />As fascinating to me as a baby's little feet. <br /> <br />Every toe a rosebud, on a chubby, dimpled tree, <br />Little legs as rounded and as plump as they can be, <br />Peeping through the nighties, or kicking in the air, <br />Angel wings aren't prettier than baby's feet, I swear. <br /> <br />Not a sign of travel, not a sign of care, <br />Not a sign of burdens they have had to bear, <br />Just the pinkest pinkness and the plumpest plumpness known, <br />Kicking in their gladness when the covers back are thrown. <br /> <br />Little feet that never yet have stepped aside to sin, <br />Never trampled others down in selfishness to win, <br />Never felt the bruises or the weariness of strife, <br />Aren't they good to look at as they're starting out in life? <br /> <br />Little feet, I wonder, as I watch you kick in play, <br />Peeping through your nightie at the ending of the day, <br />Wonder where you'll wander in the years that lie ahead, <br />And I pray the Lord to guard you o'er the paths that you must tread.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-baby-s-feet/
