THE GRANDSIRE LOVED him so; his voice had grown Into my heart, and now to hear The pretty song he had sung so long Die on the lips to me so dear! He a child with golden curls, And I with head as white as snow 1 knelt down there and made this pray'r: "God, let me be the first to go!" How often I recall it now: My darling tossing on his bed, I sitting there in mute despair, Smoothing the curls that crowned his head. They did not speak to me of death A feeling here had told me so; What could I say or do but pray That I might be the first to go? THE GRANDSIRE Yet, thinking of him standing there 'T was better he should wait, not I. For when I walk the vale of death, Above the wail of Jordan's flow 105 Shall rise a song that shall make me strongThe call of the child that was first to go. HUSHABY, SWEET MY OWN AIR is the castle up on the hill — FAIR Hushaby, sweet my own! The night is fair, and the waves are still, On yonder hill is store of wealth — And revelers drink to a little one's health; See not, dear eyes, the forms that creep Out of the mists of the murmuring deep; Oh, see them not and make no cry Till the angels of death have passed us by— Hushaby, sweet my own! HUSHABY, SWEET MY OWN Ah, little they reck of you and me Hushaby, sweet my own! In our lonely home beside the sea; And there they will do their ghostly will. Here by the sea a mother croons 66 'Hushaby, sweet my own!" In yonder castle a mother swoons 107 While the angels go down to the misty deep, Bearing a little one fast asleep Hushaby. sweet my own! CHILD AND MOTHER MOTHER-MY-LOVE, if you 'll give me your 0 hand, And go where I ask you to wander, I will lead you away to a beautiful landThe Dreamland that 's waiting out yonder. We'll walk in a sweet-posie garden out there Where moonlight and starlight are streaming And the flowers and the birds are filling the air With the fragrance and music of dreaming. There'll be no little tired-out boy to undress, |