O, little darling of mine, What can you know of the bliss, Awake and asleep, Because I am certain of this? Unknown CRADLE SONG (From "Bitter-Sweet") WHAT is the little one thinking about? 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 Where the summers go; He need not laugh, for he 'll find it so! Who can tell what a baby thinks? Out from the shore of the great unknown, 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 Deep where the heart-throbs sink and swell. Of all the birds, Words she has learned to murmur well? I can see the shadow creep Softly sinking, down he goes! 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, How fair and innocent he lies; Like some small angel strayed, His face still warmed by God's own smile, My thoughts are reverent as I stoop What toil must stain these tiny hands O what am I that I should train I reach him up to the sinless Hands Before his cares begin, Great Father, with Thy folds of love, Curtis May |