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"What can you see in Baby-Land?"
"Little folks in white
Downy heads,

Faces pure and bright!"

"What do they do in Baby-Land?" "Dream and wake and play, Laugh and crow,

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"What do they say in Baby-Land?"

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What a birdie sings!"

"Who is the Queen of Baby-Land?"

"Mother, kind and sweet;

And her love,

Born above,

Guides the little feet."

George Cooper


My heart is like a fountain true

That flows and flows with love to you.

As chirps the lark unto the tree

So chirps my pretty babe to me.

And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby.

There's not a rose where'er I seek,
As comely as my baby's cheek.
There's not a comb of honey-bee,
So full of sweets as babe to me.

And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby.

There's not a star that shines on high, Is brighter than my baby's eye. There's not a boat upon the sea,

Can dance as baby does to me.

And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby.

No silk was ever spun so fine

As is the hair of baby mine.

My baby smells more sweet to me

Than smells in spring the elder tree. And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby.

A little fish swims in the well,
So in my heart does baby dwell.
A little flower blows on the tree,
My baby is the flower to me,

And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby.

The Queen has sceptre, crown and ball,
You are my sceptre, crown and all.
For all her robes of royal silk,

More fair your skin, as white as milk.

And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby.

Ten thousand parks where deer do run,
Ten thousand roses in the sun,

Ten thousand pearls beneath the sea,
My babe more precious is to me.

And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby.



SLEEP, little baby of mine,

Night and the darkness are near,
But Jesus looks down

Through the shadows that frown,
And baby has nothing to fear.

Shut, little sleepy blue eyes;

Dear little head, be at rest;
Jesus, like you,

Was a baby once, too,

And slept on His own mother's


Sleep, little baby of mine,

Soft on your pillow so white;

Jesus is here

To watch over you, dear,

And nothing can harm you to-

O, little darling of mine,

What can you know of the bliss,

The comfort I keep,

Awake and asleep,

Because I am certain of this?



(From "Bitter-Sweet")

WHAT is the little one thinking about?
Very wonderful things, no doubt!
Unwritten history!

Unfathomed mystery!

Yet he laughs and cries, and eats and drinks, And chuckles and crows, and nods and


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!

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 ;-

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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

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,
Out to his little finger-tips!

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