The Cold winds swept the mountain’s height,
And pathless was the dreary wild,
And mid the cheerless hours of night
A mother wandered with her child:
As through the drifting snow she pressed,
The babe was sleeping on her breast.
And colder still the winds did blow,
And darker hours of night came on,
And deeper grew the...
The Wind blew wide the casement, and within—
It was the loveliest picture!—a sweet child
Lay in its mother’s arms, and drew its life,
In pauses, from the fountain,—the white round
Part shaded by loose tresses, soft and dark,
Concealing, but still showing, the fair realm
Of so much rapture, as green shadowing trees
With beauty shroud the...
Children are what the mothers are.
No fondest father’s fondest care
Can fashion so the infant heart
As those creative beams that dart,
With all their hopes and fears, upon
The cradle of a sleeping son.
His startled eyes with wonder see
A father near him on his knee,
Who wishes all the while to trace
The mother in his...
Brown eyes,
Straight nose;
Dirt pies,
Rumpled clothes;
Torn books,
Spoiled toys;
Arch looks,
Unlike a boy’s;
Little rages,
Obvious arts;
(Three her age is),
Cakes, tarts;
Falling down
Off chairs;
Breaking crown
Down stairs;
Catching flies...
THOU happy, happy elf!
(But stop, first let me kiss away that tear,)
Thou tiny image of myself!
(My love, he ’s poking peas into his ear,)
Thou merry, laughing sprite,
With spirits, feather light,
Untouched by sorrow, and unsoiled by sin;
(My dear, the child is swallowing a pin!)
Thou little tricksy Puck!
With antic...
When Letty had scarce passed her third glad year,
And her young, artless words began to flow,
One day we gave the child a colored sphere
Of the wide earth, that she might mark and know,
By tint and outline, all its sea and land.
She patted all the world; old empires peeped
Between her baby fingers; her soft hand
Was welcome at all...
Wee Willie WINKIE rins through the town,
Up stairs and doon stairs, in his nicht-gown,
Tirlin’ at the window, cryin’ at the lock,
“Are the weans in their bed?—for it ’s now ten o’clock.”
Hey, Willie Winkie! are ye comin’ ben?
The cat ’s singin’ gay thrums to the sleepin’ hen,
The doug ’s speldered on the floor, and disna gie a cheep;
...
Four Years Old:—A Nursery Song
… “Pien d’ amori,
Pien di canti, e pien di fiori.”—FRUGONI.
Full of little loves of ours,
Full of songs, and full of flowers.
AH, little ranting Johnny,
For ever blithe and bonny,
And singing nonny, nonny,
With hat just thrown upon ye;
Or whistling like the thrushes,...
Maternity
HEIGH-HO! daisies and buttercups,
Fair yellow daffodils, stately and tall!
When the wind wakes, how they rock in the grasses,
And dance with the cuckoo-buds slender and small!
Here ’s two bonny boys, and here ’s mother’s own lasses,
Eager to gather them all.
Heigh-ho! daisies and buttercups!
Mother shall...
Is there, when the winds are singing
In the happy summer-time,—
When the raptured air is ringing
With Earth’s music heavenward springing,
Forest chirp, and village chime,—
Is there, of the sounds that float
Unsighingly, a single note
Half so sweet and clear and wild
As the laughter of a child?
Listen! and be now...
