Little Burgler

Oh, Tell me Little Burgler, the secret of your charm,
You who steals all work-thoughts
from my studious arm,
You with eyes like garden pools in sunlight and in rain,
Reflecting the magic of growth, in laughter and pain.
You’re a Cherub and Prince and Beggar,

all wrapped up in one,
And each day I live with you,

it appears my life’s just begun.
Alone to the world we may seem to be,
But your Father, you and I,
Love has made into one on into eternity.
(1929)

Though this poem is dated fall 1929, it seems to refer to an experience of mom’s relationship with her first child, Mary (pictured here), a “little burgler” who steals her attention from her chores (“studious arm”) and has “eyes like garden pools in sunlight and in rain reflecting the magic of growth, in laughter and in pain.” I can imagine her writing this feeling that, in living day-to-day ith her first newborn child, her life would seem to begin anew—“Each day I live with you, it appears my life’s just begun”—and that together with dad, love has made the family cemented permanently together as one for all eternity. This would be her philosophy of family, of being a part of creation. On the left is another picture, this one showing Mary (standing) and Mike, mom's first two children, and her "studious arm" reaching out to steady Mike, who seems to be just learning to crawl.