Legend of the Storks and the Babies.
HAVE you heard of the Valley of Babyland, The realm where the dear little darlings stay Till the kind storks go, as all men know, And O so tenderly bring them away?
The paths are winding and past all finding By all except the storks who understand The gates and highways and the intricate byways That lead to Babyland. All over the Valley of Babyland Sweot flowers bloom on the soft green moss; And under the ferns fair, and under the leaves there, Lie little heads like spools of floss. With a soothing number the River of Slumber Flows o'er a bed of silver sand; And angels are keeping watch o'er the sleeping Babes of Babyland. The path to the Valley of Babyland Only the kingly white storks know; If they fly over mountains or wade through fountains No man sees them come or go. But an angel, maybe, who guards some baby, Or a fairy, perhaps, with her magic wand, Brings them straightway to the wonderful gateway That leads to Babyland. And there in the Valley of Babyland, Under the mosses and leaves and ferns. Like an unfledged starling they find the darling, For whom the heart of a mother yearns, And they lift him lightly and tuck him tightly In feathers as soft as a lady's hand, And off with a rockaway step they walk away As they go from the Valley of Babyland Forth into the world of great unrest. Sometimes weeping he wakes from sleeping, Before he reaches his mother's breast. Ah! how she blesses him, how she caresses him, Bonniest bird in the bright home band. That o'er land and water the kind stork brought her From far-off Babyland.