Explore "Beard and Baby" by Eugene Field on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
I say, as one who never feared / The wrath of a subscriber's bullet, / I pity him who has a beard / But has no little girl to pull it!
When wife and I have finished tea, / Our baby woos me with her prattle, / And, perching proudly on my knee, / She gives my petted whiskers battle.
With both her hands she tugs away, / While scolding at me kind o' spiteful; / You'll not believe me when I say / I find the torture quite delightful!
No other would presume, I ween, / To trifle with this hirsute wonder, / Else would I rise in vengeful mien / And rend his vandal frame asunder!
But when her baby fingers pull / This glossy, sleek, and silky treasure, / My cup of happiness is full -- / I fairly glow with pride and pleasure!
And, sweeter still, through all the day / I seem to hear her winsome prattle -- / I seem to feel her hands at play, / As though they gave me sportive battle.
Yes, heavenly music seems to steal / Where thought of her forever lingers, / And round my heart I always feel / The twining of her dimpled fingers!