Classic Poem

No baby in the house, I know,
—'Tis far too nice and clean.
No toys, by careless fingers strewn,
—Upon the floors are seen.
No finger-marks are on the panes,
—No scratches on the chairs;
No wooden men set up in rows,
—Or marshaled off in pairs;
No little stockings to be darned,
—All ragged at the toes;
No pile of mending to be done,
—Made up of baby-clothes;
No little troubles to be soothed;
—No little hands to fold;
No grimy fingers to be washed;
—No stories to be told;
No tender kisses to be given;
—No nicknames, “Dove” and “Mouse”;
No merry frolics after tea,—
—No baby in the house!