Little fingers that feel For their home on my breast, Little lips that appeal For their nurture, their rest!

Why, why dost thou weep, dear?

Nay, stifle thy cries, Till the dew of thy sleep, dear, Lies soft on thine eyes.

Alfred Austin [1835-1913]

KENTUCKY BABE

'Skeeters am a hummin' on de honeysuckle vine,-- Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

Sandman am a comin' to dis little c.o.o.n of mine,-- Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

Silv'ry moon am shinin' in de heabens up above, Bobolink am pinin' fo' his little lady love: Yo' is mighty lucky, Babe of old Kentucky,-- Close yo' eyes in sleep.

Fly away, Fly away, Kentucky Babe, fly away to rest, Fly away, Lay yo' kinky, woolly head on yo' mammy's breast,-- Um--Um--, Close yo' eyes in sleep.

Daddy's in de cane-brake wid his little dog and gun,-- Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

'Possum fo' yo' breakfast when yo' sleepin' time is done,-- Sleep, Kentucky Babe!

Bogie man'll catch yo' sure unless yo' close yo' eyes, Waitin' jes outside de doo' to take yo' by surprise: Bes' be keepin' shady, Little colored lady,-- Close yo' eyes in sleep.

Richard Henry Buck [1869-

MINNIE AND WINNIE

Minnie and Winnie slept in a sh.e.l.l.

Sleep, little ladies! And they slept well.

Pink was the sh.e.l.l within, silver without; Sounds of the great sea wandered about.

Sleep, little ladies! Wake not soon!

Echo on echo dies to the moon.

Two bright stars peeped into the sh.e.l.l.

"What are they dreaming of? Who can tell?"

Started a green linnet out of the croft; Wake, little ladies! The sun is aloft.

Alfred Tennyson [1809-1892]

BED-TIME SONG

Sleep, my baby, while I sing Bed-time news of everything.

Chickens run to mother hen; Piggy curls up in the pen.

In the field, all tired with play, Quiet now the lambkins stay.

Kittens cuddle in a heap-- Baby, too, must go to sleep!

Sleep, my baby, while I sing Bed-time news of everything.

Now the cows from pasture come; Bees fly home with drowsy hum.

Little birds are in the nest, Under mother-bird's soft breast.

Over all soft shadows creep-- Baby now must go to sleep.

Sleep, my baby, while I sing Bed-time news of everything.

Sleepy flowers seem to nod, Drooping toward the dewy sod; While the big sun's fading light Bids my baby dear good-night.

Mother loving watch will keep; Baby now must go to sleep.

Emilie Poulsson [1853-

TUCKING THE BABY IN

The dark-fringed eyelids slowly close On eyes serene and deep; Upon my breast my own sweet child Has gently dropped to sleep; I kiss his soft and dimpled cheek, I kiss his rounded chin, Then lay him on his little bed, And tuck my baby in.

How fair and innocent he lies; Like some small angel strayed, His face still warmed by G.o.d's own smile, That slumbers unafraid; Or like some new embodied soul, Still pure from taint of sin-- My thoughts are reverent as I stoop To tuck my baby in.

What toil must stain these tiny hands That now lie still and white?

What shadows creep across the face That shines with morning light?

These wee pink shoeless feet--how far Shall go their lengthening tread, When they no longer cuddled close May rest upon this bed?

O what am I that I should train An angel for the skies; Or mix the potent draught that feeds The soul within these eyes?

I reach him up to the sinless Hands Before his cares begin,-- Great Father, with Thy folds of love, O tuck my baby in.

Curtis May [18 --

"JENNY WI' THE AIRN TEETH"

What a plague is this o' mine, Winna steek an e'e; Though I hap him o'er the heid, As cosy as can be.

Sleep an' let me to my wark-- A' thae claes to airn-- Jenny wi' the airn teeth, Come an' tak' the bairn!

Tak' him to your ain den, Whaur the bogie bides, But first put baith your big teeth In his wee plump sides; Gie your auld gray pow a shake, Rive him frae my grup, Tak' him whaur nae kiss is gaun When he waukens up.

Whatna noise is that I hear Coomin' doon the street?

Weel I ken the dump, dump, O' her beetle feet; Mercy me! she's at the door!

Hear her lift the sneck; Wheesht, an' cuddle mammy noo, Closer roun' the neck.

Jenny wi' the airn teeth, The bairn has aff his claes; Sleepin' safe an' soun', I think-- Dinna touch his taes.

Sleepin' bairns are no for you, Ye may turn aboot, An' tak' awa' wee Tam next door-- I hear him screichin' oot.