MY little dear, so fast asleep,
Whose arms about me cling,
What kisses shall she have to keep,
While she is slumbering?
Upon her golden baby-hair,
The golden dreams I'll kiss
Which Life spread through my morning fair,
And I have saved, for this.
Upon her baby eyes I'll press
The kiss Love gave to me,
When his great joy and loveliness
Made all things fair to see.
And on her lips with smiles astir,
Ah me, what prayer of old
May now be kissed to comfort her,
Should Love or Life grow cold.
Whose arms about me cling,
What kisses shall she have to keep,
While she is slumbering?
Upon her golden baby-hair,
The golden dreams I'll kiss
Which Life spread through my morning fair,
And I have saved, for this.
Upon her baby eyes I'll press
The kiss Love gave to me,
When his great joy and loveliness
Made all things fair to see.
And on her lips with smiles astir,
Ah me, what prayer of old
May now be kissed to comfort her,
Should Love or Life grow cold.
