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Songs of Womanhood.
by Laurence Alma-Tadema.
CHILDHOOD
King Baby
King Baby on his throne Sits reigning O, sits reigning O!
King Baby on his throne Sits reigning all alone.
His throne is Mother's knee, So tender O, so tender O!
His throne is Mother's knee, Where none may sit but he.
His crown it is of gold, So curly O, so curly O!
His crown it is of gold, In s.h.i.+ning tendrils rolled.
His kingdom is my heart, So loyal O, so loyal O!
His kingdom is my heart, His own in every part.
Divine are all his laws, So simple O, so simple O!
Divine are all his laws, With Love for end and cause.
King Baby on his throne Sits reigning O, sits reigning O!
King Baby on his throne Sits reigning all alone.
A Blessing for the Blessed
When the sun has left the hill-top, And the daisy-fringe is furled, When the birds from wood and meadow In their hidden nests are curled, Then I think of all the babies That are sleeping in the world....
There are babies in the high lands And babies in the low, There are pale ones wrapped in furry skins On the margin of the snow, And brown ones naked in the isles, Where all the spices grow.
And some are in the palace On a white and downy bed, And some are in the garret With a clout beneath their head, And some are on the cold hard earth, Whose mothers have no bread.
O little men and women, Dear flowers yet unblown!
O little kings and beggars Of the pageant yet unshown!
Sleep soft and dream pale dreams now, To-morrow is your own....
Though some shall walk in darkness, And others in the light, Though some shall smile and others weep In the silence of the night, When Life has touched with many hues Your souls now clear and white:
G.o.d save you, little children!
And make your eyes to see His finger pointing in the dark Whatever you may be, Till one and all, through Life and Death, Pa.s.s to Eternity....
To Raoul Bouchard
Dear were your kisses, baby boy, Your weight upon my arm: Gay were your tuneful cries of joy As I danced you round the farm: And sweet your softness when we lay Laughing and cooing in the hay.
The summer sun will s.h.i.+ne again, Old arms will mow and reap; There'll be new flowers on the plain, New lambs among the sheep; But never in this world of men Shall we two be as we were then.
Your feet have touched the ground, my bird, And now your wondering eyes Will gaze no more as if they heard A seraph in the skies: A little boy, with leap and shout You'll wildly chase your dreams about.
But when you are a man, soft thing, And life has made you stern, May we who watched you in your spring Still feel our babe return In hallowed moments, such as s.h.i.+ne When thought or deed makes man divine.
To-day and To-morrow
Little hands--what will you grasp When you leave this nest, O?
Little arms--what will you clasp Against that tender breast, O?
Cling to mother's finger, babe, Throw sweet arms about me!
Here no noons may linger, babe, Soon you'll love without me.
Little toes--where will you turn, East or south or west, O?
Little feet--what sands that burn Will you soon have pressed, O?
Lie on mother's knee, my own, Dance your heels about me!
Apples leave the tree, my own, Soon you'll live without me....
The Nesting Hour
Robin-friend has gone to bed, Little wing to hide his head-- Mother's bird must slumber too Just as baby Robins do-- When the stars begin to rise, Birds and babies close their eyes.
The Little Sister
BATH-TIME:
