Part 1 (2/2)

Will it waken the loveliest music To gladden the weary heart?

Will it smooth the sufferer's pillow, Bring rest to his aching head?

Will it proffer the cup of cold water?

By it shall the hungry be fed?

Oh! in the years that are coming, Be they many or be they few, What now is the good G.o.d sending For this little hand to do?”

Thus the mother's anxious vision Strives to pierce each coming year, With a mother's height of rapture, With a mother's depth of fear.

Ah! whatever may be its fortunes, Whatever in life its part, This little wee hand will never loose Its hold on the mother's heart.

THE FIRST TOOTH.

My own little beautiful Baby, You're weeping most bitterly, dear!

There'd soon be a lake, if we treasured Each sweet little silvery tear.

A lake? Nay! an ocean of sorrow Would murmur and sigh at your feet, And you would be drowned in your tear-drops, My own little Baby sweet.

But, darling, as in the wide ocean The divers plunge boldly down, And bring up the radiant pearl-drops To set in some royal crown,

E'en so from the sea of your sorrow, This dolorous ”fountain of youth,”

Will come, ere a week be over, A little wee pearly tooth.

And then the tears will all vanish, Dried up by the suns.h.i.+ne of smiles; And we'll have back our own little Alice, With her merriest frolics and wiles.

And whenever you laugh, my Baby, Through all your life's happy years, You'll show us the radiant pearl-drop That you brought from the ocean of tears.

JOHNNY'S BY-LOW SONG.

Here on our rock-away horse we go, Johnny and I, to a land we know,-- Far away in the sunset gold, A lovelier land than can be told.

_Chorus._ Where all the flowers go niddlety nod, Nod, nod, niddlety nod!

Where all the flowers go niddlety nod, And all the birds sing by-low!

Lullaby, lullaby, by-low.

The gates are ivory set with pearls, One for the boys, and one for the girls: So shut your bonny two eyes of blue, Or else they never will let you through.

_Chorus._ Where all the flowers go niddlety nod, Nod, nod, niddlety nod!

Where all the flowers go niddlety nod, And all the birds sing by-low!

Lullaby, lullaby, by-low.

But what are the children all about?

There's never a laugh and never a shout.

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