First Born - Poem by Dorothy Warwick
Our first born child, a joy so wild
A flaming bursting love.
A rising, sweeping, soaring
To unheard of heights above.
The wondrous miracle of birth
The feel of tender bliss
As we gaze at this masterpiece
And placing of first kiss.
Oh miracle of miracles
"God's" gift to us be known.
May we be worthy of your love
Your trust, first born, our own.
Comments about First Born by Dorothy Warwick
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
Mary Elizabeth Frye