'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."

XXI.

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,

She talked and sung

the woods among;

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.