For the window shutteth fast,
Till the stormy night is past;
And the curtains warm are spread
Round about her cradle bed;
So till morning shineth bright,
Little baby, dear, good night.
SEE, the rooks are homeward flying,
In the yellow evening sky,
When the summer sun is setting,
'Mid bright clouds of many a dye.
And the peasant lad all weary
Wends his way across the moor,
With a whistle loud and cheery—
Work is done-the day is o'er.
Bees around the hive are humming,
Bringing home their golden store;
Children from their play are coming,
Wearied-they can play no more.
O'er the grass the dew is falling,
Flowers close up their petals bright;
Birds are roosting-friends are calling,
As they pass, "Good night! good night!"
I MUST NOT TEASE MY MOTHER.
I MUST not tease my mother,
For she is very kind;
And everything she says to me
I must directly mind;
For when I was a baby,
And could not speak or walk, She let me in her bosom sleep, And taught me how to talk.
I must not tease my mother; And when she likes to read, Or has the headache, I will step Most silently indeed:
I will not choose a noisy play,
Nor trifling troubles tell,
But sit down quiet by her side,
And try to make her well.
I must not tease my mother ;
I've heard dear father say,
When I was in my cradle sick,
She nursed me night and day;
She lays me in my little bed,
She gives me clothes and food,
And I have nothing else to pay
But trying to be good.
I must not tease my mother;
She loves me all the day,
And she has patience with my faults,
And teaches me to pray.
How much I'll strive to please her,
She every hour shall see ;
For should she go away or die,
What would become of me?
LET dogs delight to bark and bite,
For God hath made them so;
Let bears and lions growl and fight,
For 'tis their nature too.
But, children, you should never let
Such angry passions rise;
Your little hands were never made
To tear each other's eyes.
Let love through all your actions run,
And all your words be mild; Live like the blessed Virgin's Son,
That sweet and lovely child.
His soul was gentle as a lamb;
And as His stature grew,
He grew in favour both with man,
And God, His Father, too.
Now, Lord of all, He reigns above,
And from His heavenly throne
He sees what children dwell in love,
And marks them for His own.
COME here, little Robin, and don't be afraid,
I would not hurt even a feather;
Come here, little Robin, and pick up some bread,
To feed you this very cold weather.
I don't mean to hurt you, you poor little thing, And pussy-cat is not behind me;
So hop about pretty, and put down your wing, And pick up the crumbs, and don't mind me.
Cold winter is come, but it will not last long,
And summer we soon shall be greeting;
Then remember, sweet Robin, to sing me a song,
In return for the breakfast you're eating.
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