Little Things

My life is full of little things;
I know not whence they come:
The sweeping of a spider’s web,
The picking of a plum;
The singing in the morning
As I scrub, dust or mend-,
For little things a pleasure
To dreary tasks will lend.

My life is full of little things:
A babe whose fingers twine
Around my neck; whose soul must feel
The need and call of mine.
Putting on the coffee pot
When six o’clock draws near;
Setting cigars close at hand
Beside a cosy chair.
Making oatmeal in the morning
The right consistency;
Tending baby’s little wants
When e’er she comes to me.

All the thousand little things-,
My work, our babe, his smile,
Combine to make the biggest things
For they make life worthwhile.

– Circa 1939

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