Babies in the White House

Children in the White House, half a dozen sizes,
     Cooing and a-crowing,
     Half-grown and growing:—
Who wouldn’t be a president for such a set of prizes?

Blessings on the little tots, little tots and larger;
     Bubbling and a-babbling,
     Gamboling and gabbling;—
Little rough riders with a papa’s knee a charger.

Children in the White House, never still a minute.
     Old room and new room,
     Red room and blue room;—
But how can any room be blue that has a baby in it?

Over all the White House, let them romp and run,
     Largest room and least room,
     Green room and east room;—
Every room’s an east room that has a rising son.

Blessings on the White House, and twenty million more.
     To make a home a White House,
     A sunny, white and bright house,
There’s nothing else the equal of a baby on the floor.

A goodly house the White House, but who would think it strange
     Not a cottage resident
     Would take it from the President
And swap his little cottage-full of babies in the change.