She is the singer’s daughter,
And she has grown so sweet, so sweet,
That I would be the shoe-lace
That ties her dainty feet:
For, walking everywhere she went
I’d know a total, sweet content.
Then I would be the pillow
Beneath her head at night, all night,
And her fair hair would warm me
With strands of golden light.
And when she breathed so soft and low
I’d feel her dreams and almost glow.
And I would be the air-waves
That catch her laughing, waking voice,
And back I’d wing into her ears
Where she and I’d rejoice.
And we would be so well content
We’d sing with joy where e’er we went!