All the Children
I suppose if all the children
Who have lived through the ages long Were collected and inspected,
They would make a wondrous throng. Oh, the babble of the Babel!
Oh, the flutter and the fuss!
To begin with Cain and Abel
And to finish up with us.
Think of all the men and women
Who are now and who have been
Every nation since Creation
That this world of ours has seen,
And of all of them, not any
But was once a baby small;
While of children, oh, how many
Have not grown up at all!
Some have never laughed or spoken, Never used their rosy feet:
Some have even flown to heaven
Ere they knew that earth was sweet;
And, indeed, I wonder whether,
There is room for them on earth.
If we reckon every birth,
And bring such a flock together,
Who will wash their smiling faces?
Who will clean their saucy ears will box?
Who will dress them and care for them? Who will darn their little socks?
Where are arms enough to hold them? Hands to pat each shining head?
Who will praise them?
Who will scold them?
Who will pack them off to bed?
Little happy Christian children,
Little pagan children, too,
In all stages, of all ages
That our planet ever knew;
Little princes and princesses,
Little beggars, wan and faint,
Some in very handsome dresses,
Naked some, bedaubed with paint.
Only think of the confusion
Such a motley crowd would make,
And the clatter of their chatter
And the things that they would break!
Oh, the babble of the Babel!
Oh, the flutter and the fuss!
To begin with Cain and Abel
And to finish up with us.
