A Dreary place would be this earth, 

 Were there no little people in it; 

The song of life would lose its mirth, 

Were there no children to begin it:

No little forms, like buds to grow,

And make the admiring heart surrender;

No little hands on breast and brow, 

To keep the thrilling love-cords tender.

The sterner souls would grow more stern, 

Unfeeling nature more inhuman,

And man to stoic coldness turn,

And woman would be less than woman.

Life's song, indeed, would lose its charm, 

Were there no babies to begin it;

A doleful place this world would be, 

Were there no little people in it.

J. G. Whittier.