What makes the light in them sparkle and spin? The clock strikes two : - they go
Some of the starry spikes left in.
Where did you get that little tear?
I found it waiting when I got here.
What makes your forehead so smooth and high? In his straw bed begins to stir.
A soft hand stroked it as I went by.
What makes your cheek like a warm white rose? Something better than any one knows.
Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss! Three angels gave me at once a kiss.
Where did you get that pearly car? God spoke, and it came out to hear.
Where did you get those arms and hands?
Love made itself into hooks and bands.
Feet, whence did you come, you darling things?
From the same box as the cherubs' wings.
How did they all just come to be you? God thought about me, and so I grew.
But how did you come to us, you dear? God thought of you, and so I am here.
The steed he paws the floor,
Creaks the stable-door;
The clock strikes four :- 't is plain,
The coachman sifts his grain.
The swallow's laugh the still air shakes,
The sun awakes;
The clock strikes five:
He puts his stockings on.
The hen is clacking,
The ducks are quacking;
The clock strikes six :- awake, arise,
Thou lazy hag; come, ope thy eyes.
Quick to the baker's run;
The rolls are done;
The clock strikes seven :-
'Tis time the milk were in the oven.
Put in some butter, do,
And some fine sugar too; The clock strikes eight:
Now bring my baby's porridge straight.
Translation of CHARLES T. BROOKS.
NAKED on parents' knees, a new-born child, Weeping thou sat'st when all around thee smiled: So live, that, sinking to thy last long sleep, Thou then mayst smile while all around thee
I'm in love with you, Baby Louise!
From the Portuguese of CALIDASA, by With your silken hair, and your soft blue eyes,
I'm in love with you, Baby Louise! Why you never raise your beautiful head! Some day, little one, your cheek will grow red With a flush of delight, to hear the word said, "I love you," Baby Louise.
Do you hear me, Baby Louise?
I have sung your praises for nearly an hour,
And your lashes keep drooping lower and lower,
And you've gone to sleep, like a weary flower,
Ungrateful Baby Louise!
NAE shoon to hide her tiny taes,
Nae stockings on her feet;
Her supple ankles white as snow
Of early blossoms sweet.
Her simple dress of sprinkled pink,
Her double, dimpled chin; Her puckered lip and bonny mou', With nae ane tooth between.
Her een sae like her mither's een,
Twa gentle, liquid things;
Her face is like an angel's face -
We're glad she has nae wings.
FROM "THE HANGING OF THE CRANE."
SEATED I see the two again,
But not alone; they entertain
A little angel unaware,
With face as round as is the moon;
A royal guest with flaxen hair,
Who, throned upon his lofty chair,
Drums on the table with his spoon,
Then drops it careless on the floor,
To grasp at things unseen before.
Are these celestial manners? these
The ways that win, the arts that please?
Ah, yes; consider well the guest,
And whatsoe'er he does seems best;
He ruleth by the right divine
Of helplessness, so lately born
In purple chambers of the morn,
As sovereign over thee and thine.
He speaketh not, and yet there lies
A conversation in his eyes;
The golden silence of the Greek,
The gravest wisdom of the wise,
Not spoken in language, but in looks
More legible than printed books,
As if he could but would not speak.
And now, O monarch absolute,
Thy power is put to proof; for lo!
Resistless, fathomless, and slow,
The nurse comes rustling like the sea,
And pushes back thy chair and thee,
And so good night to King Canute.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
HAVE you not heard the poets tell
How came the dainty Baby Bell
Into this world of ours?
The gates of heaven were left ajar :
With folded hands and dreamy eyes,
Wandering out of Paradise,
She saw this planet, like a star,
Hung in the glistening depths of even,
Its bridges, running to and fro,
O'er which the white-winged angels go,
Bearing the holy dead to heaven.
She touched a bridge of flowers,
So light they did not bend the bells
Of the celestial asphodels,
They fell like dew upon the flowers:
Then all the air grew strangely sweet!
And thus came dainty Baby Bell
Into this world of ours.
She came, and brought delicious May.
The swallows built beneath the eaves;
Like sunlight, in and out the leaves
The robins went the livelong day;
The lily swung its noiseless bell;
And o'er the porch the trembling vine
Seemed bursting with its veins of wine.
How sweetly, softly, twilight fell!
O, earth was full of singing-birds
And opening spring-tide flowers,
When the dainty Baby Bell
Came to this world of ours!
O, Baby, dainty Baby Bell,
How fair she grew from day to day!
What woman-nature filled her eyes,
What poetry within them lay!
Those deep and tender twilight eyes,
So full of meaning, pure and bright
As if she yet stood in the light
Of those oped gates of Paradise.
And so we loved her more and more:
Ah, never in our hearts before
Was love so lovely born:
We felt we had a link between
This real world and that unseen-
The land beyond the morn;
And for the love of those dear eyes,
For love of her whom God led forth
(The mother's being ceased on earth
When Baby came from Paradise), —
For love of Him who smote our lives,
And woke the chords of joy and pain,
We said, Dear Christ! our hearts bent down
Like violets after rain.
And now the orchards, which were white
And red with blossoms when she came,
Were rich in autumn's mellow prime;
The clustered apples burnt like flame,
The soft-cheeked peaches blushed and fell,
The ivory chestnut burst its shell,
The grapes hung purpling in the grange;
And time wrought just as rich a change
In little Baby Bell.
Her lissome form more perfect grew,
And in her features we could trace, In softened curves, her mother's face. Her angel-nature ripened too : We thought her lovely when she came, But she was holy, saintly now :Around her pale angelic brow We saw a slender ring of flame !
God's hand had taken away the seal
That held the portals of her speech; And oft she said a few strange words
Whose meaning lay beyond our reach. She never was a child to us, We never held her being's key; We could not teach her holy things:
She was Christ's self in purity.
It came upon us by degrees,
We saw its shadow ere it fell,
The knowledge that our God had sent
His messenger for Baby Bell.
We shuddered with unlanguaged pain,
And all our hopes were changed to fears,
And all our thoughts ran into tears
Like sunshine into rain.
We cried aloud in our belief,
"O, smite us gently, gently, God!
Teach us to bend and kiss the rod,
And perfect grow through grief."
Ah, how we loved her, God can tell ;
Her heart was folded deep in ours.
Our hearts are broken, Baby Bell!
At last he came, the messenger,
The messenger from unseen lands: And what did dainty Baby Bell? She only crossed her little hands,
No baby in the house, I know,
"T is far too nice and clean.
No toys, by careless fingers strewn,
Upon the floors are seen.
No finger-marks are on the panes,
No scratches on the chairs;
No wooden men set up in rows,
Or marshalled off in pairs;
No little stockings to be darned,
All ragged at the toes;
No pile of mending to be done,
Made up of baby-clothes;
No little troubles to be soothed;
No little hands to fold;
No grimy fingers to be washed;
No stories to be told;
No tender kisses to be given;
No nicknames, "Dove" and "Mouse;" No merry frolics after tea, No baby in the house!
WHAT DOES LITTLE BIRDIE SAY?
FROM "SEA DREAMS.
WHAT does little birdie say
In her nest at peep of day?
Let me fly, says little birdie,
Mother, let me fly away.
Birdie, rest a little longer,
Till the little wings are stronger.
So she rests a little longer,
Then she flies away.
What does little baby say,
In her bed at peep of day?
Baby says, like little birdie,
Let me rise and fly away.
Baby sleep, a little longer,
Till the little limbs are stronger,
If she sleeps a little longer,
Baby too shall fly away.
ALFRED TENNYSON.
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