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Poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Have you heard of the Valley of Babyland, The realm where the dear little darlings stay, Till the kind storks go, as all men know, And, oh, so tenderly bring them away? The paths are winding and past all finding, By all save the storks who understand The gates and the highways and the intricate byways That lead to Babyland. All over the Valley of Babyland Sweet flowers bloom in the soft green moss; And under the ferns fair, and under the plants there, Lie little heads like spools of floss. With a soothing number the river of slumber Flows o'er a bedway of silver sand; And angels are keeping watch o'er the sleeping Babes of Babyland. The path to the Valley of Babyland Only the kingly, kind storks know; If they fly over mountains, or wade through fountains, No man sees them come or go. But an angel maybe, who guards some baby, Or a fairy perhaps, with her magic wand, Brings them straightway to the wonderful gateway That leads to Babyland. And there in the Valley of Babyland, Under the mosses and leaves and ferns, Like an unfledged starling, they find the darling For whom the heart of a mother yearns; And they lift him lightly, and snug him tightly In feathers soft as a lady's hand; And off with a rockaway step they walk away Out of Babyland. As they go from the Valley of Babyland, Forth into the world of great unrest, Sometimes in weeping, he wakes from sleeping Before he reaches the mother's breast. Ah, how she blesses him, how she caresses him, Bonniest bird in the bright home band That o'er land and water, the kind stork brought her From far-off Babyland!
Ella Wheeler Wilcox
Ella Wheeler Wilcox's other poems:
English Poetry. E-mail firstname.lastname@example.org