SEPHESTIA'S LULLABY

From Menaphon

WEEP not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee!
Mother's wag, pretty boy,

Father's sorrow, father's joy;
When thy father first did see
Such a boy by him and me,
He was glad, I was woe;
Fortune changèd made him so,
When he left his pretty boy,

Last his sorrow, first his joy!

ΙΟ

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee;
When thou art old there's grief enough for thee!
Streaming tears that never stint,

Like pearl drops from a flint,
Fell by course from his eyes,
That one another's place supplies;
Thus he grieved in every part,

Tears of blood fell from his heart,

When he left his pretty boy,

Father's sorrow, father's joy!

Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there's grief enough for thee.

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The wanton smiled, father wept,
Mother cried, baby leapt;

More he crow'd, more we cried,
Nature could not sorrow hide:
He must go, he must kiss
Child and mother, baby bliss,
For he left his pretty boy,
Father's sorrow, father's joy!

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Weep not, my wanton, smile upon my knee; When thou art old there's grief enough for thee!

1589.

Robert Greene.

FOREIGN LANDS

Up into the cherry-tree

Who should climb but little me?
I held the trunk with both my hands
And looked abroad on foreign lands.

I saw the next-door garden lie,
Adorned with flowers before my eye,
And many pleasant places more
That I had never seen before.

I saw the dimpling river pass
And be the sky's blue looking-glass;
The dusty roads go up and down
With people tramping into town.

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1885.

Sweet and Low

If I could find a higher tree
Farther and farther I should see,
To where the grown-up river slips
Into the sea among the ships,

To where the roads on either hand
Lead onward into fairy land,
Where all the children dine at five,
And all playthings come alive.

Robert Louis Stevenson.

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20

SWEET AND LOW

From The Princess

SWEET and low, sweet and low,
Wind of the western sea,
Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea!

Over the rolling waters go,

Come from the dying moon, and blow,

Blow him again to me;

While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.

Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,

Father will come to thee soon;

Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;

Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon:

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one,

sleep.

1850.

16

Lord Tennyson.

DUTCH LULLABY

WYNKEN, Blynken, and Nod one night

Sailed off in a wooden shoe,—

Sailed on a river of misty light

Into a sea of dew.

“Where are you going, and what do you wish?” The old moon asked the three.

"We have come to fish for the herring-fish That live in this beautiful sea;

Nets of silver and gold have we,"

Said Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sung a song,

As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long

Ruffled the waves of dew.

The little stars were the herring-fish

That lived in the beautiful sea;

'Now cast your nets wherever you wish,

But never afeard are we!"

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Dutch Lullaby

So cried the stars to the fishermen three,

Wynken,
Blynken,

And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw

For the fish in the twinkling foam,

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Then down from the sky came the wooden shoe, Bringing the fishermen home;

'T was all so pretty a sail, it seemed

As if it could not be;

And some folk thought 't was a dream they 'd dreamed

Of sailing that beautiful sea;

But I shall name you the fishermen three:

Wynken,

Blynken,

And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,

And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one's trundle-bed;

So shut your eyes while Mother sings
Of the wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock in the misty sea

Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen

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48

Eugene Field.