Poem

“They tie you down,” a woman said,

Whose cheeks should have been flaming red

With shame to speak of children so.

“When babies come you cannot go

In search of pleasure with your friends,

And all your happy wandering ends.

The things you like you cannot do,

For babies make a slave of you.

”I looked at her and said, “’Tis true

That children make a slave of you,’

And tie you down with many a knot,

But have you never thought to what

It is of happiness and pride

That little babies have you tied?

Do you not miss the greater joys

That come with little girls and boys?

They tie you down to laughter rare,

To hours of smiles and hours of care,

To nights of watching and to fears;

Sometimes they tie you down to tears

And then repay you with a smile,

And make your trouble all worth while.

They tie you fast to chubby feet

And cheeks of pink and kisses sweet.

They fasten you with cords of love

To God divine, who reigns above.

They tie you, whereso’er you roam,

Unto the little place called home;

And over sea or railroad track

They tug at you to bring you back.

The happiest people in the town

Are those the babies have tied down.

Oh, go your selfish way and free

But hampered I would rather be,

Yes rather than a kingly crown

I would be, what you term, tied down;

Tied down to dancing eyes and charms,

Held fast by chubby, dimpled arms,

The fettered slave of girl and boy,

And win from them earth’s finest joy.

~ Edgar A. Guest