INFANCY. THE BABY. 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? I found it waiting when I got here. What makes your forehead so smooth and high? A soft hand stroked it as I went by. What makes your cheek like a warm white rose? Whence that three-cornered smile of bliss? Where did you get that pearly ear? God spoke, and it came out to hear. Where did you get those arms and hands? Love made itself into bonds and bands. Feet, whence did you come, you darling things? From the same box as the cherub's wings. How did they all just come to be you? But how did you come to us, you dear? God thought about you, and so I am here. - George Macdonald OLD GAELIC LULLABY. HUSH! the waves are rolling in, White with foam, white with foam; Father toils amid the din; But baby sleeps at home. Hush the winds roar hoarse and deep, — On they come, on they come ! Brother seeks the wandering sheep: But baby sleeps at home. Hush the rain sweeps o'er the knowes, But baby sleeps at home. A SLEEPING CHILD. LIPS, lips, open! Up comes a little bird that lives inside, Up comes a little bird, and peeps, and out he flies. All the day he sits inside, and sometimes he sings; Little bird, little bird, whither will you go? Little bird, little bird, whither do you flee? Little bird, little bird, how long will you roam? Round the round world, and back through the air, Back comes the little bird, and looks, and in he flies. Sleep, sleep, little boy, little bird's away, |