Classic Poem

How many pounds does the baby weigh
— Baby who came but a month ago?
How many pounds from the crowning curl
— To the rosy point of the restless toe?

Grandfather ties the 'kerchief knot,
— Tenderly guides the swinging weight,
And carefully over his glasses peers
— To read the record " only eight. "

Softly the echo goes around:
— The father laughs at the tiny girl;
The fair young mother sings the words,
— While grandmother smooths the golden curl.

And stooping above the precious thing,
— Nestles a kiss, within a prayer.
Murmuring softly, " Little one,
— Grandfather didn't weigh you fair. "

Nobody weighed the baby's smile,
— Or the love that came with the helpless one;
Nobody weighed the threads of care,
— From which a woman's life is spun . . .

Nobody weighed the baby's soul
— For here on earth, no weights there be
That would avail. God only knows
— Its value in eternity . . .

How many pounds does the baby weigh
— Baby who came but a month ago?
How many pounds from the crowning curl
— To the rosy point of the restless toe?

Grandfather ties the 'kerchief knot,
— Tenderly guides the swinging weight,
And carefully over his glasses peers
— To read the record " only eight. "

Softly the echo goes around:
— The father laughs at the tiny girl;
The fair young mother sings the words,
— While grandmother smooths the golden curl.

And stooping above the precious thing,
— Nestles a kiss, within a prayer.
Murmuring softly, " Little one,
— Grandfather didn't weigh you fair. "

Nobody weighed the baby's smile,
— Or the love that came with the helpless one;
Nobody weighed the threads of care,
— From which a woman's life is spun . . .

Nobody weighed the baby's soul
— For here on earth, no weights there be
That would avail. God only knows
— Its value in eternity . . .