WHAT is the pretty little thing Oh, dear, how very soft its cheek: Poor baby. Here take a bite, you little dear, 'Tis very nice, you need not fear, You baby. Oh, I'm afraid that it will die, Why, you were once a baby too, But good mamma took care of you, Like baby. And then she taught your pretty feet And called papa to come and meet Oh, good mamma, to take such care, you were A baby. Jane and Ann Taylor GETTING UP BABY, baby, ope your eye, There, now, sit in mother's lap, For the little strings have got Ah! for shame,-you've been at play With the bobbin, as you lay. There it comes, now let me see Where your petticoats can be ; Oh, they're in the window seat, Now one pretty little kiss, Jane Taylor MAMMA! (From "The Floweret ") My own mamma! At candle-light, When she comes home to me. To-morrow night, At candle-light, Yes, that's the time, they say, That she 'll be here, Our mother dear, How long she's been away. She pressed the parting kiss; It seems like two, I never knew So long a week as this. My tangled hair She smoothed with care, With water bathed my brow; And all with such A gentle touch, There's none to do so now. I cannot play When she's away; There's none to laugh with me; And much I miss The tender kiss,— When up to bed I'm sorrowing led, I linger on the stairs; I lie and weep I cannot sleep I scarce can say my prayers. But she will come, She 'll be at home To-mcrrow night, and then I hope that she Will never be So long away again. Anna M. Wells TO MY MOTHER THEY tell us of an Indian tree Which howsoe'er the sun and sky May tempt its boughs to wander free, And shoot and blossom, wide and high, Far better loves to bend its arms Downward again to that dear earth From which the life, that fills and warms Its grateful being, first had birth. 'T is thus, though wooed by flattering friends, And fed with fame (if fame it be), This heart, my own dear mother, bends, With love's true instinct, back to thee! Thomas Moore CUDDLE DOON THE bairnies cuddle doon at nicht Wi' muckle faught an' din; "Oh try and sleep, ye waukrife rogues, Your faither 's comin' in." |