Each time I rise and see the glorious morning,
The rose run, the fresh and sparkling dew.
The baby’s crib where dawn comes slowly creeping,
And hear soft sounds below, I know that you
Have tiptoed downstairs to your waiting kitchen,
Have spread a checkered tablecloth, ironed sweet.
And set the cups and saucers brightly gleaming;
I know my world could not be more complete.
I shave and sing into my mirror;
The spice of baking wafts up the stairs,
And in this paradise you keep so lovely,
I pause and say a deeply thankful prayer.