Garden and Cradle

When our babe he goeth walking in his garden, Around his tinkling feet the sunbeams play; The posies they are good to him, And bow them as they should to him, As fareth he upon his kingly way; And birdlings of the wood to him Make music, gentle music, all the day, When our babe he goeth walking in his garden. When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle, Then the night it looketh ever sweetly down; The little stars are kind to him, The moon she hath a mind to him, And layeth on his head a golden crown; And singeth then the wind to him A song, the gentle song of Bethle’m town, When our babe he goeth swinging in his cradle.

Collection: 
English
1870
Eugene Field

More from Poet

  • The Compliment

    Arrayed in snow-white pants and vest, And other rainment fair to view, I stood before my sweetheart Sue— The charming creature I love best. “Tell me and does my costume suit?” I asked that apple of my eye— And then the charmer made reply, “Oh, yes, you do look awful cute!” Although I...

  • Jim’s Kids

    Jim was a fisherman, up on the hill, Over the beach lived he and his wife, In a little house—you can see it still— An’ their two fair boys; upon my life You never seen two likelier kids, In spite of their antics an’ tricks an’ noise, Than them two boys! Jim would go out in his boat on...

  • Seein’ Things

    I Ain’t afeard uv snakes, or toads, or bugs, or worms, or mice, An’ things ’at girls are skeered uv I think are awful nice! I ’m pretty brave, I guess; an’ yet I hate to go to bed, For, when I ’m tucked up warm an’ snug an’ when my prayers are said, Mother tells me “Happy dreams!” and takes away...

  • A Dutch Lullaby

    Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night Sailed off in a wooden shoe— Sailed on a river of misty light Into a sea of dew. “Where are you going, and what do you wish?” The old moon asked the three. “We have come to fish for the herring-fish That live in this beautiful sea; Nets of silver and...

  • Japanese Lullaby

    Sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings,— Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes; Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging— Swinging the nest where her little one lies. Away out yonder I see a star,— Silvery star with a tinkling song; To the soft dew falling I hear it calling— Calling...