What is the little one thinking about?
Very wonderful things, no doubt;
Unwritten history!
Unfathomed mystery!
Yet he laughs and cries, and eats and drinks,
And chuckles and crows, and nods and winks,
As if his head were as full of kinks
And curious riddles as any sphinx!
- Josiah Gilbert Holland (used pseudonym Timothy Titcomb),
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There came to port last Sunday night
The queerest little craft,
Without an inch of rigging on;
read more
There came to port last Sunday night
The queerest little craft,
Without an inch of rigging on;
I looked and looked--and laughed.
It seemed so curious that she
Should cross the unknown water,
And moor herself within my room--
My daughter! O my daughter!
Suck, baby! suck! mother's love grows by giving:
Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by wasting!
read more
Suck, baby! suck! mother's love grows by giving:
Drain the sweet founts that only thrive by wasting!
Black manhood comes when riotous guilty living
Hands thee the cup that shall be death in tasting.
O child! O new-born denizen
Of life's great city! on thy head
The glory of morn is read more
O child! O new-born denizen
Of life's great city! on thy head
The glory of morn is shed,
Like a celestial benison!
Here at the portal thou dost stand,
And with thy little hand
Thou openest the mysterious gate
Into the future's undiscovered land.
Baloo, baloo, my wee, wee thing.
Baloo, baloo, my wee, wee thing.
Rock-bye-baby on the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock.
When the bough bends read more
Rock-bye-baby on the tree top,
When the wind blows the cradle will rock.
When the bough bends the cradle will fall,
Down comes the baby, cradle and all.
Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained
strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest read more
Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained
strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the
enemy and the avenger.
When the baby dies,
On every side
Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud.
read more
When the baby dies,
On every side
Rose stranger's voices, hard and harsh and loud.
The baby was not wrapped in any shroud.
The mother made no sound. Her head was bowed
That men's eyes might not see
Her misery.
Her beads while she numbered,
The baby still slumbered,
And smile in her face, as she bended read more
Her beads while she numbered,
The baby still slumbered,
And smile in her face, as she bended her knee;
Oh! bless'd be that warning,
My child, thy sleep adorning,
For I know that the angels are whispering with thee.
A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,
Perplex'd with the newly found fardel of life.
A tight little bundle of wailing and flannel,
Perplex'd with the newly found fardel of life.
