Yet if pain were pain to thee,
If thou knewest how to fear,
And didst lend thy little ear,
I would say again to thee:
Rest thee, rest thee, darling one!

I would bid thee, baby, sleep;
And be thou hushed, O restless deep!
Thou, too, my boundless sorrow!
Father, let some fairer morrow
Change for us thy sovran will,
Bring us good beyond this ill!
When I make too bold a prayer,
Thy vengeance on the babe forbear,
Let my head receive it still!

Rest thee, rest thee, little one!

Note,- This lyrical fragment, preserved through twenty-four centuries, possesses in the original Greek a tenderness and melody of surpassing delicacy. The poet's theme is Danäe, exposed with her infant (of whom her father had a superstitious fear) in an open ark, or coffer, to the fury of the waves. According to the poem, "When the wild winds beat upon the wroughten ark, and the perturbed sea brought terror to her soul, she threw her arms around Perseus, and sang: 'Little one, thy mother's weeping!'" etc.

A MOTHER'S EVENING HYMN

BY MARTIN LUTHER

TRANSLATED BY JOHN CHRISTIAN JACOBI (1722)

Sleep well, my dear, sleep safe and free;
The holy angels are with thee,

Who always see thy Father's face,
And never slumber nights nor days.

Thou liest in down, soft every way;
Thy Saviour lay in straw and hay;
Thy cradle is far better drest

Than the hard crib where He did rest.

God make thy mother's health increase, To see thee grow in strength and grace, In wisdom and humility,

As infant Jesus did for thee.

Sleep now, my dear, and take thy rest; And if with riper years thou'rt blest, Increase in wisdom, day and night, Till thou attain'st th' eternal Light.

THE COTTAGER'S LULLABY

BY DOROTHY WORDSWORTH

The days are cold, the nights are long;
The north-wind sings a doleful song;
Then hush again upon my breast,
All merry things are now at rest,
Save thee, my pretty love!

The kitten sleeps upon the hearth,
The crickets long have ceased their mirth;
There's nothing stirring in the house

Save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse;
Then why so busy thou?

Nay, start not at that sparkling light;
'Tis but the moon that shines so bright
On the window-pane bedropped with rain;
Then, little darling! sleep again,
And wake when it is day.

SWEDISH MOTHER'S LULLABY

BY FREDERIKA BREMER

There sitteth a dove, so fair and white,

All on a lily spray;

And she listeneth how to the Saviour above
The little children pray.

Lightly she spreads her friendly wings,
And to heaven's gate hath sped,
And unto the Father in heaven she bears
The prayers the children have said.

And back she comes from heaven's gate,

And brings that dove so mild

From the Father in heaven, who hears her speak, A blessing for every child.

SEA SLUMBER-SONG

BY RODEN NOEL

Sea-birds are asleep,

The world forgets to weep,

Sea murmurs her soft slumber-song
On the shadowy sand

Of this elfin land; "I, the Mother mild,

Hush thee, O my child,
Forget the voices wild!
Isles in elfin light

Dream, the rocks and caves,
Lull'd by whispering waves,
Veil their marbles bright,
Foam glimmers faintly white
Upon the shelly sand

Of this elfin land;
Sea-sound, like violins,

To slumber woos and wins,

I murmur my soft slumber-song,
Leave woes, and wails, and sins,
Ocean's shadowy might
Breathes good-night,
Good-night!"

MOTHER-SONG *

BY ALFRED AUSTIN

White little hands!

Pink little feet!

Dimpled all over,

Sweet, sweet, sweet!

What dost thou wail for?

The unknown? the unseen?

The ills that are coming,

The joys that have been?

Cling to me closer,
Closer and closer,

Till the pain that is purer

Hath banish'd the grosser.
Drain, drain at the stream, love,
Thy hunger is freeing,

That was born in a dream, love,
Along with thy being!

Little fingers that feel

For their home on my breast,

Little lips that appeal

For their nurture, their rest!

Why, why dost thou weep, dear?

Nay, stifle thy cries,

Till the dew of thy sleep, dear,

Lies soft on thine eyes.

* By permission of The Macmillan Company.