Somewhere midway along in this poetic record of sixteen tiny . . . tinier . . . tiniest sounds. the reader is tempted to raise his voice and cry havoc: it's all too, too delicate and tiptoeing, and ultimately too monotonous. Alongside the attractive but unrepresentative sweep of ""the whole hill/ moves in running waves/ like the ocean"" there are baby snowflakes and baby hummingbirds, ""the youngest butterfly"" and ""the littlest kitten."" And some that begin sensitively--""the flight of a gossamer milkweek seed""-- end simperingly--""on the soft white coat/ of a spring-born lamb."" Ed Young's colors are beautifully modulated, his designs more allusive than the text. The adult appeal is obvious.