Cradle (Songmo'l

As if his head were as full of kinks
And curious riddles as any sphinx!

Warped by colic, and wet by tears,
Punctured by pins, and tortured by fears,
Our little nephew will lose two years;
And he'll never know

Where the summers go;—

He need not laugh, for he'll find it so!

7

Who can tell what a baby thinks?
Who can follow the gossamer links

By which the mannikin feels his way

Out from the shore of the great unknown,
Blind, and wailing, and alone,,

Into the light of day?—.

Out from the shore of the unknown sea,
Tossing in pitiful agony;—

Of the unknown sea that reels and rolls,
Specked with the barks of little souls,-
Barks that were launched on the other side,
And slipped from Heaven on an ebbing tide!
What does he think of his mother's eyes?
What does he think of his mother's hair?
What of the cradle-roof, that flies'
Forward and backward through the air?
What does he think of his mother's breast,
Bare and beautiful, smooth and white,
Seeking it ever with fresh delight,-

Cup of his life, and couch of his rest?

What does he think when her quick embrace

Presses his hand and buries his face

Deep where the heart-throbs sink and swell

With a tenderness she can never tell,

Though she murmur the words.

Of all the birds,

Words she has learned to murmur well?
Now he thinks he'll go to sleep!

I can see the shadow creep

Over his eyes, in soft eclipse,
Over his brow, and over his lips,

I

887

I'VE found my bonny babe a nest
On Slumber Tree,

I'll rock you there to rosy rest,
Asthore Machree!

Oh, lulla lo! sing all the leaves
On Slumber Tree,

Till everything that hurts or grieves
Afar must flee.

I've put my pretty child to float,
Away from me,

Within the new moon's silver boat

On Slumber Sea.

And when your starry sail is o'er
From Slumber Sea,

My precious one, you'll step to shore

On Mother's knee.

Alfred Perceval Graves (1846

CRADLE SONG

I

LORD Gabriel, wilt thou not rejoice

When at last a little boy's

Cheek lies heavy as a rose,

And his eyelids close?

Gabriel, when that hush may be,

This sweet hand all heedfully

I'll undo, for thee alone,
From his mother's own.

Cradle Song

Then the far blue highways paven
With the burning stars of heaven...
He shall gladden with the sweet
Hasting of his feet-

Feet so brightly bare and cool,
Leaping, as from pool to pool;
From a little laughing boy
Splashing rainbow joy!

Gabriel, wilt thou understand
How to keep his hovering hand-
Never shut, as in a bond,
From the bright beyond?---

Nay, but though it cling and close
Tightly as a climbing rose,
Clasp it only so-aright,
Lest his heart take fright.

(Dormi, dormi, tu:

The dusk is hung with blue.)

II

Lord Michael, wilt not thou rejoice
When at last a little boy's

Heart, a shut-in murmuring bee,
Turns him unto thee?

Wilt thou heed thine armor well-
To take his hand from Gabriel,
So his radiant cup of dream
May not spill a gleam?

He will take thy heart in thrall,
Telling o'er thy breastplate, all

Colors, in his bubbling speech,
With his hand to each.

(Dormi, dormi, tu.

Sapphire is the blue:..

Pearl and beryl, they are called,
Chrysoprase and emerald,...

ITO

89

Sard and amethyst.
Numbered so, and kissed.)

Ah, but find some angel word
For thy sharp, subduing sword!'
Yea, Lord Michael, make no doubt
He will find it out:

(Dormi, dormi, tu!

His eyes will look at you.)

III

Last, a little morning space,
Lead him to that leafy place
Where Our Lady sits awake,
For all mothers' sake.

Bosomed with the Blessèd One,
He shall mind her of her Son,
Once so folded from all harms,
In her shrining arms.

(In her veil of blue,

Dormi, dormi, tu.)

So-and fare thee well.

Softly,-Gabriel ..

When the first faint red shall come,

Bid the Day-star lead him home,

For the bright world's sake

To my heart, awake.

Josephine Preston Peabody [1874

MOTHER-SONG FROM "PRINCE LUCIFER"

WHITE little hands!

Pink little feet!

Dimpled all over,

Sweet, sweet, sweet!

What dost thou wail for?

The unknown? the unseen?

The ills that are coming,

The joys that have been?

'SKEETERS am a hummin' on de honeysuckle vine,—
Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

Sandman am a comin' to dis little coon of mine,-
Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

Silv'ry moon am shinin' in de heabens up above,

Bobolink am pinin' fo' his little lady love: (')
Yo' is mighty lucky,

Babe of old Kentucky,―

Close yo' eyes in sleep.

Fly away,

Fly away, Kentucky Babe, fly away to rest,

Fly away,

a

Lay yo' kinky, woolly head on yo' mammy's breast,—

Daddy's in de cane-brake wid his little dog and gun,—

Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

'Possum fo' yo' breakfast when yo' sleepin' time is done,— Sleep, Kentucky Babe!