There is neither cry quite as soulful, nor a gurgle quite as mirthful as that from an infant.  Every sensation is new, nothing is blasé. Everything is an adventure and a crisis. Everything is a savory sensory sensation.

Undulate infant,
on an arboraceous crescent,
as the tempest seethes
sway in thy cot.
Tempest will howl,
and the tot will descend
to the terra firma below
furnishings in pursuit
Carl