Night The snow is white, the wind is cold- With silver shoes that were made to last. Bed-Time "Tis bed-time; say your hymn, and bid "Good night, 66 God bless mamma, papa, and dear ones all.” Your half-shut eyes beneath your eye-lids fall; Another minute you will shut them quite. Yes, I will carry you, put out the light, And tuck you up, although you are so tall. What will you give me, Sleepy One, and call My wages, if I settle you all right? I laid her golden curls upon my arm, I drew her little feet within my hand; Her rosy palms were joined in trustful bliss, Paid me my precious wages,-Baby's kiss. Lord Rosslyn. Nightfall in Dordrecht * The mill goes toiling slowly around And my little one hears in the kindly sound While round and round those big white wings Grimly and ghostlike creep, My little one hears that the old mill sings: The sails are reefed and the nets are drawn, The fisher, against the morrow's dawn, He mocks at the winds that caper along From the far-off clamorous deep But we we love their lullaby song Of" Sleep, little tulip, sleep!" *From "With Trumpet and Drum," by Eugene Field. Copyright, 1892, by Charles Scribner's Sons. Old dog Fritz in slumber sound Groans of the stony mart To-morrow how proudly he'll trot you round, Hitched to our new milk-cart! And you shall help me blanket the kine And set the herring a-soak in brine— A Dream-One comes to button the eyes While the old mill buffets the frowning skies Over your face the misty wings Of that beautiful Dream-One sweep, And rocking your cradle she softly sings: "Sleep, little tulip, sleep!" Eugene Field. |