It was a day in warm July, It was a far countree; The bees were humming in the flowers That filled the linden tree.
The linden made a cooling shade For many a yard around, And flecks of sunlight here and there Did dot the shady ground.
A long, low, easy seat there was Beneath the linden green; And Kinderbank across the back In letters large was seen.
I did not need that word to read, To know the Children's Seat; For there the grass was trodden down By many little feet.
Upon this day the Kinderbank Was full as it could be, With children sitting in a row, A pleasant sight to see.
Each little woman bent her head, Too busy far to speak; Each had a lock of yellow hair Slipped down across her cheek.
Each little woman pursed her lips Into a rosebud small, And never knew how fast time flew — So busy were they all.
One made the knitting-needles click, With shining head bent low, And earnest eyes intent to see The winter stocking grow.
Another, toiling at a seam, The thread drew in and out; And once she sighed — so hard she tried To make the stitches stout!
But ever, as they worked away, And would not look around, They watched the little ones that played Before them on the ground.
The little ones they laughed and cooed, And talked their baby-talk; Their feet so bare were rosy-fair — For only one could walk!
His flaxen hair in ringlets stood Upon his serious head; His eyes so blue were serious, too; And, drawing near, I said:
“Whose precious baby boy is this, So thoughtful and so sweet?” Then up and spoke a little maid, Of those upon the seat:
“This baby — he belongs to me. He goes just where I go; And I'm his Little Mother — yes, My mother told me so!
“She said that he was mine‘ all day.’ And so it must be true; I brushed his hair — I take good care, As she herself would do.
“And I'm quite sure that I can cure, And drive the pain away, With kisses, if my baby hurts His little hand at play!”
“And whose are all these babies here? “Why — we — oh, do n't you know?” We all are Little Mothers — yes, Our mothers told us so!”
The Little Mothers all looked up, And each did nod her head: “Our mothers told us so!” “Ah, then ‘ Tis true, indeed,” I said.
I left them as I found them, there Beneath the linden tree; And often since that day I've thought I'd like to go and see
If still the Little Mothers sit Upon the Children's Seat, And watch their babies as they play And tumble at their feet.
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