There's a twinkle in her eye,
O, so merry! O, so sly!
That you never see the wrinkles in her face;
She's so full of fun and play
That you never see the gray
In her tresses, and you never see a trace
Of the feebleness of years,
Born of heartaches and of tears;
She's the youngest of the children still today.
All the charm of youth remains,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem