In part transfigured through the open door Appears the selfsame scene. Seated I see the two again, A little angel unaware, With face as round as is the moon; And now, O monarch absolute, As one who walking in the forest sees cealed, So I beheld the scene. There are two guests at table now; Soft shining through the summer night, HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW. BABY LOUISE. I'm in love with you, Baby Louise! With your silken hair, and your soft blue eyes, And the dreamy wisdom that in them lies, And the faint, sweet smile you brought from the skies, God's sunshine, Baby Louise. When you fold your hands, Baby Louise, Your hands, like a fairy's, so tiny and fair, With a pretty, innocent, saint-like air, Are you trying to think of some angel-taught prayer You learned above, Baby Louise? 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 words 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! MARGARET EYTINGE. THE ANGEL'S WHISPER. [In Ireland they have a pretty fancy, that, when a child smiles in its sleep, it is "talking with angels."] A BABY was sleeping; Its mother was weeping, For her husband was far on the wild raging sea; And she cried, "Dermot, darling, O come back to me!" Her beads while she numbered, The baby still slumbered, And smiled in her face as she bended her knee : "O, blest be that warning, My child, thy sleep adorning, For I know that the angels are whispering with thee. THE baby sleeps and smiles. As if he thought to spy, By coyly peeping out, The funny elf that brought Would I some way could find Those thoughts that seem to wear So sweet a guise? What picture, tiny, fair, Delights his eyes? See! now he smiles once more; Perhaps there is before His mental sight portrayed Some vision blest Of that dear land of rest, That far-off heaven, From whence his new-created soul Has lately strayed ; Or to his ear, perchance, are given As yet his soul is spotless. Why Why not within NO BABY IN THE HOUSE. No baby in the house, I know, No tender kisses to be given ; No nicknames, "Dove" and "Mouse"; No merry frolics after tea, No baby in the house! CLARA G. DOLLIVER. BABY'S SHOES. O, THOSE little, those little blue shoes! Those shoes that no little feet use! O, the price were high That those shoes would buy, Those little blue unused shoes! For they hold the small shape of feet That, by God's good-will, And ceased from their totter so sweet. And O, since that baby slept, So hushed, how the mother has kept, And over them thought and wept ! For they mind her forevermore Of a patter along the floor; And blue eyes she sees Look up from her knees. With the look that in life they wore. As they lie before her there, There babbles from chair to chair A little sweet face That's a gleam in the place, With its little gold curls of hair. See the kindly shepherds round him, Telling wonders from the sky! WILLIE WINKIE. WEE Willie Winkie rins through the town, Hey, Willie Winkie! are ye comin' ben? a cheep; But here's a waukrife laddie, that winna fa' asleep. Ony thing but sleep, ye rogue :— - glow'rin' like the moon, Rattlin' in an airn jug wi' an airn spoon, Rumblin', tumblin' roun' about, crawin' like a wauknin' sleepin' cock, Skirlin' like a kenna-what folk! Where they sought him, there they found him, Hey, Willie Winkie! the wean's in a creel! With his Virgin-Mother by. See the lovely babe a-dressing: Lo, he slumbers in his manger, Where the hornèd oxen fed; - Peace, my darling! here's no danger! Here's no ox anear thy bed! May'st thou live to know and fear him, I could give thee thousand kisses, ISAAC WATTS. Waumblin' aff a bodie's knee like a vera eel, |