Matias Lima

I wonder, Oh I wonder, where the little faces go. That come and smile and stay awhile,
and pass like flakes of snow. The dear, wee baby faces that the world has never known, But mothers hide, so tender-eyed deep in the hearts alone.
I love to think that somewhere, in the country we call heaven, the land most fair of anywhere will unto them be given. A land of little faces, very little, very fair, and everyone shall know her own and leave unto it there