When a child dreams, she sleepily drifts in her little bassinet, encircled by evening primrose, a sweetness of baby fine soft ringlets of hair, and tiny carnation pink rosebud lips kissed by angels in candlelight with flowing gowns and arcing silver wings, neath a star clustered spring eventide, a delicate baby's beginning of her life, the glowing fairies hush, as her blameless conscience enters a dreamland of lambs and butterflies, downy ducklings and cooing doves, dreams that God gives His children.