poems.
79
LULLABY.
(WRITTEN FOR MRS. H . R .)
Now the night draws near,
And my Willie dear
Must be lulled to his evening rest;
While the birds fold their wings,
And the zephyr sings,
Let him sleep on his mother's breast.
Oh, Willie, sweet Willie,
Gift from above,
Like an angel of joy
From our pure home on high
He has come, and shall claim our love.
And my Willie dear
Must be lulled to his evening rest;
While the birds fold their wings,
And the zephyr sings,
Let him sleep on his mother's breast.
Oh, Willie, sweet Willie,
Gift from above,
Like an angel of joy
From our pure home on high
He has come, and shall claim our love.
LINES TO A FRIEND.
What think you of in that sweet early hour
When morning wakes all nature from repose?
The dew-drops glisten on each drooping flower,
With pensive sighs the soft breeze faintly blows?
When morning wakes all nature from repose?
The dew-drops glisten on each drooping flower,
With pensive sighs the soft breeze faintly blows?
And when the sun sets in the beauteous west,
Its glorious rays are lingering in the sky,
Reflecting softly on the streamlet's breast,
While fragrant zephyrs in the greenwoods sigh?
Its glorious rays are lingering in the sky,
Reflecting softly on the streamlet's breast,
While fragrant zephyrs in the greenwoods sigh?
