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?

Unknown

CRADLE SONG

(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

winks,

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;

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,
Out to his little finger-tips!

Softly sinking, down he goes!
Down he goes! down he goes!
See! he is hushed in sweet repose!

Josiah Gilbert Holland

A SONG OF TWILIGHT

Он, to come home once more, when the dusk is falling,

To see the nursery lighted and the children's table spread;

"Mother, mother, mother!" the eager voices calling,

"The baby was so sleepy that he had to go to bed!"

Oh, to come home once more, and see the smiling faces,

Dark head, bright head, clustered at the

pane;

Much the years have taken, when the heart its path retraces,

But until time is not for me, the image will remain.

Men and women now they are, standing straight and steady,

Grave heart, gay heart, fit for life's em

prise ;

Shoulder set to shoulder, how should they be

but ready!

The future shines before them with the light of their own eyes.

Still each answers to my call; no good has been denied me,

My burdens have been fitted to the little strength that's mine,

Beauty, pride and peace have walked by day beside me,

The evening closes gently in, and how can I repine?

But oh, to see once more, when the early dusk is falling;

The nursery windows glowing and the children's table spread;

“Mother, mother, mother!" the high childvoices calling,

"He could n't stay awake for you, he had

to go to bed!"

Unknown

TUCKING THE BABY IN

THE dark-fringed eyelids slowly close

On eyes serene and deep;

Upon my

breast my own sweet child

Has gently dropped to sleep;

I kiss his soft and dimpled cheek,
I kiss his rounded chin,
Then lay him on his little bed,
And tuck my baby in.

How fair and innocent he lies;

Like some small angel strayed,

His face still warmed by God's own smile,
That slumbers unafraid;
Or like some new embodied soul,
Still pure from taint of sin

My thoughts are reverent as I stoop
To tuck my baby in.

What toil must stain these tiny hands
That now lie still and white?
What shadows creep across the face
That shines with morning light?
These wee pink shoeless feet- how far
Shall go their lengthening tread,
When they no longer cuddled close
May rest upon this bed?

O what am I that I should train
An angel for the skies;
Or mix the potent draught that feeds
The soul within these eyes?

I reach him up to the sinless Hands

Before his cares begin,

Great Father, with Thy folds of love,
O tuck my baby in.

Curtis May