The Finest Age

The Finest Age

When he was only nine months old,
And plump and round and pink of cheek,
A joy to tickle and to hold,
Before he’d even learned to speak,
His gentle mother used to say:
“It is too bad that he must grow.
If I could only have my way
His baby ways we’d always know.”

And then the year was turned and he
Began to toddle round the floor
And name the things that he could see
And soil the dresses that he wore.
Then many a night she whispered low:
“Our baby now is such a joy
I hate to think that he must grow
To be a wild and heedless boy.”

But on he went and sweeter grew,
And then his mother, I recall,
Wished she could keep him always two,
For that was the finest age of all.
She thought the selfsame thing at three,
And now that he is four, she sighs
To think he cannot always be
The youngest with the laughing eyes.

Oh, little boy, my wish is not
Always to keep you four years old.
Each night I stand beside your cot
And think of what the years may hold;
And looking down on you I pray
That when we’ve lost our baby small,
The mother of our man will say,
“This is the finest age of all.”

-Edgar Guest


Mothers, love your children!
Time flies all too fast – enjoy them, cuddle them, read them stories and be with them in the daily living.
We are so blessed to be mothers.
Let us not take it for granted.

October 18, 2019 - 5:36 am

Gigi Kathryn, how sweet. I think I would do the same even if I had big boys!

October 17, 2019 - 11:49 pm

TERESA @ SF So true, lovely thoughts.

October 17, 2019 - 4:27 pm

Kathryn Beautiful poem…
I am the mom of 2 sons, my “baby” turned 27 this year…the time flies so swiftly! I still tell him every day that Mommy loves him…yes a bit silly sounding, but he indulges my sentiment with a kiss on my cheek each time he leaves the house. Please cherish those days dear Mommys. 🙂

October 17, 2019 - 8:37 am

Monica Precious boys! What a lovely poem. xoxo