'Tis gone-forgotten-let me do
My best-there was a smile or two, I can remember them, I see
The smiles, worth all the world to me. Dear Baby! I must lay thee down; Thou troublest me with strange alarms; Smiles hast Thou, sweet ones of thy own; I cannot keep thee in my arms, For they confound me: as it is, I have forgot those smiles of his.
Oh! how I love thee !-we will stay Together here this one half day.
My Sister's Child, who bears my name, From France across the Ocean came ; She with her Mother crossed the sea; The Babe and Mother near me dwell: My Darling, she is not to me
What thou art! though I love her well: Rest, little Stranger, rest thee here! Never was any Child more dear!
-I cannot help it-ill intent I've none, my pretty Innocent! I weep-I know they do thee wrong, These tears-and my poor idle tongue. Oh, what a kiss was that! my cheek How cold it is! but thou art good; Thine eyes are on me-they would speak, I think, to help me if they could. Blessings upon that quiet face, My heart again is in its place!
While thou art mine, my little Love, This cannot be a sorrowful grove; Contentment, hope, and Mother's glee, I seem to find them all in thee:
Here's grass to play with, here are flowers; I'll call thee by my Darling's name;
Thou hast, I think, a look of ours, Thy features seem to me the same;
His little Sister thou shalt be:
And, when once more my home I see, I'll tell him many tales of Thee."
HER eyes are wild, her head is bare, The sun has burnt her coal-black hair Her eye-brows have a rusty stain,
And she came far from over the main.
She has a Baby on her arm,
Or else she were alone;
And underneath the hay-stack warm,
And on the green-wood stone,
And it was in the English tongue.
"Sweet Babe! they say that I am mad,
But nay, my heart is far too glad;
And I am happy when I sing Full many a sad and doleful thing: Then, lovely Baby, do not fear! I pray thee have no fear of me, But, safe as in a cradle, here, My lovely Baby! thou shalt be: To thee I know too much I owe; I cannot work thee any woe.
A fire was once within my brain; And in my head a dull, dull pain;
And fiendish faces one, two, three,
Hung at my breasts, and pulled at me. But then there came a sight of joy ; It came at once to do me good; I waked, and saw my little Boy, My little Boy of flesh and blood; Oh joy for me that sight to see! For he was here, and only he.
Suck, little Babe, oh suck again!
It cools my blood; it cools my brain; : Thy lips I feel them, Baby! they Draw from my heart the pain away. Oh! press me with thy little hand; It loosens something at my chest ; About that tight and deadly band I feel thy little fingers prest. The breeze I see is in the tree; It comes to cool my Babe and me.
Oh! love me, love me, little Boy! Thou art thy Mother's only joy; And do not dread the waves below, When o'er the sea-rock's edge we go; The high crag cannot work me harm, Nor leaping torrents when they howl; The Babe I carry on my arm,
He saves for me my precious soul: Then happy lie, for blest am I; Without me my sweet Babe would die.
Then do not fear, my Boy! for thee
Bold as a lion I will be;
And I will always be thy guide,
Through hollow snows and rivers wide. I'll build an Indian bower; I know The leaves that make the softest bed:
And, if from me thou wilt not go,
But still be true till I am dead,
My pretty thing! then thou shalt sing As merry as the birds in spring.
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