Silent Baby

Ellen Bartlett Currier

THE BABY sits in her cradle,

Watching the world go round,

Enrapt in a mystical silence,

Amid all the tumult of sound.

She must be akin to the flowers,

For no one has heard

A whispered word

From this silent baby of ours.

Wondering, she looks at the children,

As they merrily laughing pass,

And smiles o’er her face go rippling,

Like sunshine over the grass

And into the heart of the flowers;

But never a word

Has yet been heard

From this silent darling of ours.

Has she a wonderful wisdom,

Of unspoken knowledge a store,

Hid away from all curious eyes,

Like the mysterious lore

Of the bees and the birds and the flowers?

Is this why no word

Has ever been heard

From this silent baby of ours?

Ah, baby, from out your blue eyes

The angel of silence is smiling,—

Though silvern hereafter your speech,

Your silence is golden,—beguiling

All hearts to this darling of ours,

Who speaks not a word

Of all she has heard,

Like the birds, the bees, and the flowers.