With that he gave to my baby The tiniest silver spoon.

Then out he slipped in the moonlight, And we lost him from sight right soon.

Now some may think I am foolish, And some may think I am mad; But never once since that very night Has my baby been cross or sad.

And I counsel all anxious mothers Whose babies are crying in pain, To send for the fairy Spoonman, And get them their spoons again.

SONG OF THE LITTLE WINDS.

The birdies may sleep, but the winds must wake Early and late, for the birdies' sake.

Kissing them, fanning them, soft and sweet, E'en till the dark and the dawning meet.

The flowers may sleep, but the winds must wake Early and late, for the flowers' sake.

Rocking the buds on the rose-mother's breast, Swinging the hyacinth-bells to rest.

The children may sleep, but the winds must wake Early and late, for the children's sake.

Singing so sweet in each little one's ear, He thinks his mother's own song to hear.

GOOD-NIGHT SONG.

Good-night, Sun! go to bed!

Take your crown from your shining head.

Now put on your gray night-cap, And shut your eyes for a good long nap.

Good-night, Sky, bright and blue!

Not a wink of sleep for you.

You must watch us all the night, With your twinkling eyes so bright.

Good-night, flowers! now shut up Every swinging bell and cup.

Take your sleeping-draught of dew: Pleasant dreams to all of you!

Good-night, birds, that sweetly sing!

Little head 'neath little wing!

Every leaf upon the tree Soft shall sing your lullaby.

Last to you, little child, Sleep is coming soft and mild.

Now he shuts your blue eyes bright: Little Baby dear, good-night!

ANOTHER "GOOD-NIGHT."

Birds, birds, in the linden-tree, Low, low let your music be!

Bees, bees, in the garden bloom, Hushed, hushed be your drowsy hum!

Wind, wind, through the lattice waft Still, still, thy breathing soft!

Flowers, sweet be the breath you shed: Two little children are going to bed.

Eyes, eyes, 'neath your curtains white, Veiled, veiled be the sunny light!

Lips, lips, like the roses red, Soft, soft be your sweet prayers said!

Feet, feet, that have danced all day, Now, now must your dancing stay.

Low, low lay each golden head!

Two little children are going to bed.

"A BEE CAME TUMBLING"

A bee came tumbling into my ear, And what do you think he remarked, my dear?

He said that two tens make up a score, And really and truly I knew that before.

JINGLE.

I jumped on the back of a dragon-fly, And flew and flew till I reached the sky.

I pulled down a cloud that was hiding the blue, And all the wee stars came tumbling through.

They tumbled down and they tumbled round, And turned into flowers as they touched the ground.

So come with me, little children, come, And down in the meadow I'll pick you some.

LITTLE OLD BABY.

Little old baby, pretty old baby, Screams and cries at his little old bath, Pours on the head of his little old mother All the full vials of baby wrath.

Little old baby, pretty old baby, If you could see just how queer you look,-- Arms and legs in a knot together, Face twisted up in a terrible crook,--

How you would straighten out every feature, Masculine vanity all aflame!

Fie! what a noise from a little wee creature!

_Did_ they abuse him! and _was_ it a shame!