BABY'S DREAMS.


What doth the moon so lily white,
Busily weave this Summer night?
Silver ropes and diamond strands
For Baby's pink and dimpl'd hands;
Cords for her rosy palms to hold,
While she floats, she flies,
To Dream Land set with its shores of gold,
And its buds like stars shaken out of the skies;
Where the trees have tongues and the flowers have lips
To coax, to kiss,
The velvet cheek of the Babe who slips
Thro' the Dream gate up to a land like this.

What is the mild sea whisp'ring clear
In the rosy shell of Baby's ear?
See! she laughs in her dimpl'd sleep--
What does she hear from the shining deep?

* * * * *

"Thy father comes a-sailing, a-sailing, a-sailing,
Safely comes a-sailing from islands fair and far.
O Baby, bid thy mother cease her tears and bitter wailing
The sailor's wife's his only port, his babe his beacon star!"

Softly the Wind doth blow,
What say its murmurs low?