[Illustration: _Copyright, 1909, Moffat, Yard & Co._ _First the Infant in Its Mother's Arms_] Baby, of all mysterious things, You're stranger far than stars or kings. You stare superbly day by day, Nor let your large reserve give way. Unfathomable mysteries Lurk in your big, unseeing eyes, Making brave memories, and yet, Making them only to forget. But though reflectively you blink, Trying to make us think you think, We know you cannot think or talk, You cannot run, you cannot walk; You little human mystery, You can't do anything but be.…
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