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Where did you come from, baby dear ?
Where did you get your eyes so blue ?
What makes the light in them sparkle and spin ?
Where did you get that little tear ?
What makes your forehead so smooth and ligh?
She must be akin to the flowers,
For no one has heard
A whispered word
As they merrily laughing pass,
Like sunshine over the grass
But never a word
Has yet been heard
Of unspoken knowledge a store,
Like the mysterious lore
Is this why no word
Has ever been heard
Your silence is golden, — beguiling
Who speaks not a word
Of all she has heard,
What makes your check like a warm white rose ?
Wlience that three-cornered smile of bliss !
Where did you get that pearly car ?
Whicre dia you get those arms and hands ?
Fect, whence did you come, you darling things?
ELLEN BARILETT CURRIR.
How did they all just come to be you?
I'm in love with you, Baby Louise ! God thought of you, and so I am here.
With your silken hair, and your soft blue eyes,
And the dreamy wisdom that in them lies,
God's sunshine, Baby Louise.
When you fold your hands, Baby Louise,
Your hands, like a fairy's, so tiny and fair, Os parents' knees, a naked, new-born child,
With a pretty, innocent, saint-like air, Wamping thon sat'st when all around thee smiled: Are you trying to think of some angel-taught So live, that, sinking in thy last long sleep,
prayer Thwa then mayst smile while all aroumd thee
You learned above, Baby Louise ?
From the Sanscrit of CALIDASA, by I'm in love with you, Baby Louise !
Why ! you never raise your beautiful head !
“I love you,” Baby Louise. SILENT BABY.
Do you hear me, Baby Louise ?
I have sung your praises for nearly an hour, The baby sits in her cradle,
And your lashes keep drooping lower and lower, Watching the world go round,
And - you 've gone to sleep, like a weary flower,
Ungrateful Baby Louise !
Nae shoon to hide her tiny taes,
Nae stockin' on her feet ; Her supple ankles white as snaw,
Or early blossoms sweet.
As if he could but would noi spcak.
HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW.
Her simple dress o' sprinkled pink,
Her klouble, dimplit chin, Her puckereil lips an' baumy mou',
With na ane tooth within.
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.
She is the buddin' o' our luve,
A gistig God gied us : We mam na luve the gift owre rreel,
"T wall be nae blessing thus.
Have you not heard the poets tell
Into this world of ours ?
Hung in the glistening depths of even, --
Bearing the holy deal to heavei). She touched a bridge of flowers, – those feet, 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.
We still maun lo'e the Giver mair,
Au' sie Hinı in the given ;
J. E. RANKIN.
THE HOUSEHOLD SOVEREIGN." FROM "THE HANGING OF THE CRANE."
She came, and brought delicious May.
The swallows built beneath the eaves;
Like sunlight, in and out the leaves
And o'er the porch tlie trembling vine
Seemed bursting with its veins of wine. IIow sweetly, softly, twilight fell! 0, earth was full of singing-birds And opening spring-tide flowers, When the dainty Baby Bell
Came to this world of ours !
SEATED I see the two again,
0, Baby, dainty Baby Bell,
So full of mcaning, pure and bright
As if she yet stood in the light
Was love so lovely born :
The land beyond the morn;
And for the love of those ilcar eyes,
And woke the chords of joy and pain,
Like violets after rain.
She only looked more meek and fair !
THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH.
NO BABY IN THE HOUSE,
And now the orchards, which were white
Ju little Baby Bell.
And in her features we coull tracc,
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 !
No baby in the house, I know,
'T is far too nice and clean.
Upon the floors are seen.
No scratches on the chairs ;
Or marshalled off in pairs ;
All ragged at the toes ;
Maile up of baby-clothes ;
No little hands to fold ;
No stories to be told ;
No nicknames, “Dove” and “Mouse ; No merry frolics after tea,
No baby in the house !
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.
CLARA G. DOLLIVER
WHAT DOES LITTLE BIRDIE SAY?
FROM "SEA DREAMS."
It came upon us by degrees,
Like sunshine into rain.
loved her, God can tell ; Her heart was folded deep in ours.
Our hearts are broken, Baby Bell !
What does little birdie say
What does little baby say,
At last he came, the messenger,
The messenger from unseen lands : And what did dainty Baby Bell? She puly crossed ner little hands,