قراءة كتاب The Mother's Nursery Songs

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‏اللغة: English

The Mother's Nursery Songs

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المؤلف:

Hastings Thomas

دار النشر: Project Gutenberg

الصفحة رقم: 4

class="i4">How gently she sleeps,
How silent she keeps,
Her breath is as soft as the morn;
While every new grace
In the dear one I trace,
To my bosom in transport is borne.

No sorrow she knows,
This hour of repose,
Nor hunger nor thirst nor disease;
The world with its cares,
And temptations and snares,
Has never invaded her peace.

I've linger'd awhile,
To gaze on that smile,
So sweetly that plays on her lips;
Some innocent dream
Or some heavenly beam,
Is visiting her while she sleeps.

My lov'd one awake,
Thy slumberings break,
My daughter, 'tis time to arise;
Thou joy of my heart,
A lent blessing thou art,
To be given again to the skies.

O DEAR ONE.

[Listen]

FOR A CHILD DANGEROUSLY ILL.

O dear one, how sad is that moan,
How languid and sickly that eye;
My bosom responds to each groan,
And echos each deep-breathing sigh.

Those fluttering pulsations I trace,
The anguish that sits on thy brow,
The paleness that covers thy face,
Thy voice that is languid and low.

O dear one, how deep is the grief,
That withers my desolate heart;
Kind Heav'n bring thee speedy relief,
Or thou from thy mother wilt part.

O MY PRECIOUS LITTLE GEM.

[Listen]

FOR A FATHERLESS CHILD.

O my precious little gem,
While I hold thee to my breast,
May some heav'n inspiring dream
Soothe thy spirit into rest.

But thy mother's heart is riv'n,
Bitter anguish she must feel;
Nothing but the balm of heav'n,
Can her wounded spirit heal.

Dark the night and dread the hour
When thy father lay so low;
When he felt the monster's pow'r,
Who could tell thy mother's woe!

But, thou image of his love,
May'st in heav'n thy father see;
Ere his spirit soar'd above
'Twas his latest pray'r for thee.

SAFE SLEEPING.

[Listen]

Safe sleeping on its mother's breast,
The smiling babe appears
Now sweetly sinking into rest,
Now wash'd in sudden tears:
Hush, hush, my little baby dear,
There's nobody to hurt you here.

Without a tender mother's care
The little thing must die;
Its chubby hands too feeble are
One service to supply:
And not a tittle does it know
What kind of world it's come into.

Full many a summer sun must glow,
And lighten up the skies,
Before its tender limbs can grow
To any thing of size:
And all the while the mother's eye
Must every little want supply.

Then surely when each little limb,
Shall grow to healthy size;
And youth and manhood strengthen him
For toil and enterprize,
His mother's kindness is a debt
He never, never will forget.

Jane Taylor.

HUSH, HUSH.

[Listen]

FOR THE SPRING OF THE YEAR.

Hush, hush,
While flowrets blush,
This blossom must repose,
Thy mother's joy,
My infant boy—
No rival beauty [1] knows.

Hush, hush,
On every bush,
While birds are singing shrill;
My little child,
So sweet and mild,
Must now be soft and still.

Hush, hush,
While riv'lets gush,
Refrain thy rising tears,
For every grief,
We'll seek relief,
And soothe thy infant cares.

Hush, hush,
What feelings

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قراءة كتاب The Mother's Nursery Songs