Vs 3523 
 l.fl42 C7 
 11905 
 ICopy 1 
 
 Sfe 
 
 Jradle Songs. 
 
CRADLE SONGS 
 
 *^ 
 
 CharIvES Woodward Lamb. 
 
ttSKAWY or 0ONG*»t*>S 
 
 Uo Cooies 8ece4vt!j 
 
 JUN 22 1905 
 
 
 "P6 3 5 313 
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1905, by 
 
 CHARLES W. LAMB, 
 
 In the office of the Librarian of Congress, 
 
 at Washington. 
 
 THE RECORD-, 
 
 MENASHA, WISCONSIN, 
 
 1905. 
 
-I ^ 
 
 TO 
 
 ^jxrjxtitg 
 
 Whose bright eyes and baby love inspired most of them 
 
 AND TO 
 
 Whom Dorothy loves, these verses 
 are inscribed. 
 
DOROTHY. 
 
 Name of sweetness, name of love, 
 Name of pure, tender heart ; 
 
 Name of one whose love is dear, 
 Poem of life and love thou art. 
 
 Love and peace and purity and truth 
 Are written in the gentle name of Ruth. 
 
CORN SONG. 
 
 Swing low, my baby, swing low 
 
 On the horn of the harvest moon. 
 While mother walks thro' the fields of corn 
 Baby swings low on the new moon's horn. 
 
 But mother will come to her baby soon, 
 Swing /ow, my baby, swing low. 
 
 Swing low, my baby, swing low, 
 
 The corn that was planted in spring 
 Will find thee all through the long white moon 
 When the lone Wolf howls and the mad, mad loon, 
 
 Is gone from the ponds, oh lowly swing, 
 Swing low, my baby swing low. 
 
 Swing low, my baby, svjing lov^, 
 
 The robber birds out of the air, 
 And the thieves from the ground come steal the corn. 
 So mother works charms that her foot prints warm 
 
 In the soft, sweet earth, may the robbers scare, 
 Swing low, my baby, swing low. 
 
Swing low, my baby, swing low, 
 The moon's sinking down in tiie corn. 
 
 And mother stands ready where it shall be 
 
 To catch thee and lovingly care for thee. 
 And hide thee away 'till found by the morn. 
 
 Swing low, my baby, swing low. 
 
 MY DADDA. 
 
 ]V[y dadda, he's the biggest man, 
 He picks me up in his big hands 
 
 And tosses me up in the air; 
 
 And 'way I go,— 
 
 I don't care where. 
 For he won't let me fall, I know. 
 
MOTHERHOOD. 
 
 God has spoken to us, dearest, 
 
 And in every tone 
 Love and trust gave to us, dearest, 
 
 Left us not alone. 
 
 On thy noble brow, my dearest 
 
 High, and fair and good 
 Placed thy greatest charm, my dearest. 
 
 Grown of motherhood. 
 
 In her basket crib, my dearest. 
 
 While God vigil keeps. 
 His blessing unto us, my dearest. 
 
 Sleeps, our baby sleeps. 
 
 In our hearts enshrined, my dearest, 
 
 As a vision blest, 
 God's great gift to us, my dearest, 
 
 Rests, she sweetly rests. 
 
THE LAND OF NOD. 
 
 / know of a beautiful land, 
 
 But trundle bed distance away, 
 Where baby will go when the sun goes down 
 There to await for another day, 
 
 First, two little eyes will droop, 
 Then a sweet little voice will say, 
 
 "Mamma, Fs seepy, tome put me to bed," 
 And mamma will tuck him away. 
 
 And then in the trundle bed boat, 
 
 He will sail thro' the land of dreams. 
 
 With angels to guard him and angels to guide. 
 Our bady thro' silvery streams. 
 
 Until out of the morning dawn. 
 
 Comes marching the bright sun, gay, 
 
 When baby will wake and come back to us 
 In the sunny land of to-day. 
 
Yes, it is a beautiful land 
 
 Close under the eye of God, 
 
 And baby is happy, and bright and good, 
 In the beautiful land of Nod. 
 
 THE ANGEL'S SMILE. 
 
 The angels' smile is in those eyes of brown 
 
 And again in that baby face, 
 And the smiling lips, oh, then adown 
 
 To the earth with angel grace, 
 The goodness of God sends to the earth 
 
 His love, so He gave our baby birth. 
 
THE SONG OF LIFE. 
 
 Sleep my baby, on my knee 
 While mamma watches over thee, 
 And counts the smiles that come and go 
 Across thy features, to and fro. 
 All happiness is baby's mind, 
 As sweet and light as summer wind — 
 So baby sleep while yet ye may 
 Thro' morn of Life's sweet little day. 
 
 Sleep my baby, all too soon 
 The morn will be the glowing noon, 
 When heat of battle, dust and toil 
 My baby's hands and brow will soil. 
 And cares and worries take the place 
 Of smiles upon my babies face — 
 So baby sleep while yet ye may 
 Thro' morn of Life's sweet little day. 
 
Sleep my hahy, soon the light 
 That comes between the day and night 
 Will tell thee that life's course is run. 
 Life's cares behind, Life's duties done; 
 When cares and worries ever cease 
 And baby sleeps in blessed peace — 
 So baby sleep while yet ye may, 
 Thro' morn of Lije's sweet little day. 
 
 Sleep my baby, mamma prays 
 For God to watch thee through the days 
 That come and go with ceaseless toil 
 To keep thy soul from sin and soil, 
 And give thee at the last the rest 
 With earth's deserving, heaven's blest — 
 So baby sleep while yet ye may 
 Thro' morn of Life's sweet little day. 
 
MAYBE LAND. 
 
 Ah, Maybe land is far away 
 Near borders of Sometime, 
 
 lis fields are always bright and gay 
 With blossom and with chime. 
 
 For there we always hope to go 
 
 To see the things we wish for so. 
 
 A wondrous place is Maybe land, 
 All filled with futwe hopes 
 
 Where bright desires go hand in hand 
 Down merry sometime slopes; 
 
 And all the things we wish to see 
 
 Are with the things we wish to be. 
 
 Ah, how we wish that we could go 
 
 To merry Maybe land ; 
 Ah, how we wish that we could know. 
 
 That we could understand 
 When older folks say "Maybe, dear,'* 
 If it were far away or near. 
 
Ah, Maybe land is far away, 
 
 In childish fancy lives 
 No chart to show the distant day 
 
 That to it being gives ; 
 And yet it seems so very real 
 When folks say, ''Maybe, Sometime dear. 
 
 ^ 
 
 LOVE'S PLAN. 
 
 Love v^as born when God created man 
 But still the fullness of His love-born plan 
 Was incomplete 'til on him He had smiled 
 And blessed him with the lovliness of child 
 
A FAIRY SONG. 
 
 A wind came up out of the souths 
 
 And ruffled baby's hair, 
 And sang a song in his shell pink ear^ 
 
 From out of the southern air,. 
 A fairy song in his tiny ear 
 So soft that only he could hear. 
 
 It told him that the pretty buds 
 And blossoms bright and gay, 
 
 And sweet perfumes that lade the air 
 All through the summer's day, 
 
 Where fairies come to make the earth 
 
 The brighter for our baby's birth. 
 
 It told him that the birds that sing, 
 
 In all the orchard trees 
 The song that baby loves to hear 
 
 Float on the summer breeze, 
 Where fairies making life so gay 
 For baby all the summer day. 
 
It told him in his tiny ear, 
 
 That life was one sweet song, 
 
 And days that make the weeks go by 
 But fairies minutes long. 
 
 It told him ere the song was thro' 
 
 That mama was a fairy too. 
 
 It sang the song of baby-hood 
 
 In tones so soft and mild, 
 And told of baby's fairy-land 
 
 So sweet that baby smiled. 
 And happy baby was the while 
 For God was in the baby's smile. 
 
MY DADDA. 
 
 What has my dadda to do to-day? 
 Nothing hut sit down with me and play. 
 So thought a little maid not yet two, 
 And dadda, well what could a dadda do? 
 
 For two great big eyes, so brown and bright 
 With the sparkle of fun and the depth of night 
 Looked up at him— why should they be afraid? 
 And won for this very sweet little maid. 
 
 And two tiny hands pressed onto his knee, 
 A sweet baby smile said: "Come play with me." 
 And the brightness and sweetness of that little face 
 Was laid on his breast with a baby grace. 
 
 And sung in a language all its own 
 Came songs in that beautiful baby tone- 
 Indeed, what had dadda that day to do 
 But play with a little maid not yet two. 
 
DOROTHY H. 
 
 Dorothy H., like a queen she lies 
 
 In her carriage with a right royal grace; 
 
 Dorothy H., with the big brown eyes 
 And the round little, sweet little baby face. 
 
 To-day she rules by her innocent might, 
 Oh, may all her life that time ne'er see 
 
 When another power disputes her right 
 The queen of her own little world to be. 
 
 In childhood may she rule by a force 
 
 As gentle as peace and as strong as love; 
 
 In her maidenhood sweetness be the source 
 Of her might and all her power prove. 
 
 In her womanhood may she rule a heart 
 With the strength that in her own heart lies. 
 
 And love be the power and not the art- 
 Dorothy H., with the big brown eyes. 
 
MY LADY HUNTS. 
 
 When Dotty and Daddy go hunting 
 
 She sits on his shoulder high, 
 And watches the eagles and falcons 
 
 That mount up into the sky. 
 
 With her big eyes gazing in wonder, 
 She watches with might and main 
 
 As she charges from parlor to kitchen, 
 And kitchen to parlor again. 
 
 The eagles and falcons that flying 
 ' Way up in the dining room skies, 
 
 That are to her huntsman's skill falling. 
 Are biz-buzzing, biz-buzzing flies. 
 
 And Dotty sits up on her charger. 
 
 Doing her lady queen part, 
 Her bright eyes are searching and searching, 
 
 But looking most into his heart. 
 
A GLIMPSE. 
 
 A glimpse of the love of heaven, 
 A sign of a living crovi>n, 
 
 To us on the earth is given 
 In those eyes of baby brown. 
 
 Ah, then we see a vision 
 
 Of elesian fields above, 
 And trials of earth can never take 
 
 The peace from their baby love. 
 
HUSH. 
 
 Hush, for the baby's sleeping, 
 Step with a softened tread, 
 
 Angels a watch are keeping 
 About her dainty head. 
 
 Hush, for her dreams are bringing 
 Smiles to her baby face, 
 
 Angels are to her singing 
 Songs that a heaven grace. 
 
 Sing, oh ye songs of waking. 
 Brighten ye morning skies. 
 
 Heaven on earth is breaking 
 Thro' two big baby eyes. 
 
 Sing, oh my heart, a singing, 
 Anthems of peace and love. 
 
 For those bright eyes are bringing 
 Greetings from God above. 
 
KITTENS. 
 
 A bunch of soft and silky fur, 
 A pair of bright and playful eyes, 
 
 A twitching tail that mischief tells 
 In disproportion to its size. 
 
 A little girl with eyes of brown, 
 And laughing, playful childish voice, 
 
 A flood of golden autumn sun, 
 And all in each rejoice. 
 
 ARE THEY? 
 
 Are little girls really made of sugar and of spice? 
 Are little boys all really made of ashes and of mice? 
 Ask Mama, she will tell you that the gentle God above 
 Has made the little girls and boys of flesh and blood 
 and love. 
 
F. BUTTERWORTH, 
 
 PRINTER. 
 
 MENASHA, WIS. 
 
LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 
 
 016 235 645 8