Ten thousand pearls beneath the sea,
My baby more precious is to me.
And it's O! sweet, sweet! and a lullaby.
WEST OF ENGLAND LULLABY.

The Inglenook

The Bonniest Bairn in a' the Warl'

The bonniest bairn in a' the warl'
Has skin like the drifted snaw,
An' rosy wee cheeks sae saft an' sleek-
There never was ither sic twa;

Its een are just bonnie wee wander'd stars,
Its leggies are plump like a farl,

An' ilk ane maun see't, an' a' maun declare't
The cleverest bairn,

The daintiest bairn,

The rosiest, cosiest, cantiest bairn,

The dearest, queerest,

Rarest, fairest,

Bonniest bairn in a' the warl'.

The bonniest bairn in a' the warl'
Ye ken whaur the ferlie lives?

It's doon in yon howe, it's owre yon knowe—
In the laps o' a thousand wives;

It's up an' ayont in yon castle brent,

The heir o' the belted earl:

The Inglenook

It's sookin its thoomb in yon gipsy tent-

The cleverest bairn,

The daintiest bairn,

The rosiest, cosiest, cantiest bairn,
The dearest, queerest,

Rarest, fairest,

Bonniest bairn in a' the warl'.

ROBERT FORD,

Cuddle Doon

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht,
Wi' muckle faucht an' din;
Oh, try an' sleep, ye waukrife rogues,
Your father's comin' in.

They never heed a word I speak;
I try to gi'e a froon,

But aye I hap them up, an' cry,
"O, bairnies, cuddle doon."

Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid-
He aye sleeps neist the wa',
Bangs up an' cries, "I want a piece ";
The rascal starts them a'.

I rin an' fetch them pieces, drinks,
They stop awee the soun';

Then draw the blankets up and cry,
"Noo, weanies, cuddle doon."

But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab
Cries oot frae 'neath the claes,

66

Mither, mak' Tam gie ower at ance-
He's kittlin' wi' his taes.”

The mischief's in that Tam for tricks,
He'd bother half the toon:

But aye I hap them up an' cry,

At length they hear their father's fit,
An', as he steeks the door,
They turn their faces to the wa',
While Tam pretends to snore.
"Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks,
As he pits aff his shoon;

"The bairnics, John, are in their beds,

An' lang since cuddled doon."

An' just afore we bed oorsel's,
We look at oor wee lambs;

Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck,
An' Rab his airm roun' Tam's.

I lift wee Jamie up the bed,
An', as I straik each croon,

I whisper, till my heart fills up,
"O, bairnies, cuddle doon."

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht,
Wi' mirth that's dear to me;

The

Inglenook

The

Inglenook

But sune the big warl's cark an' care
Will quaten doon their glee.

Yet come what will to ilka ane,

May He who sits aboon

Aye whisper, though their pows be bauld,

66

"O, bairnies, cuddle doon."

ALEXANDER ANDERSON.

I Am Lonely

The world is great: the birds all fly from me
The stars are golden fruit upon a tree
All out of reach: my little sister went,
And I am lonely.

The world is great: I tried to mount the hill
Above the pines, where the light lies so still,
But it rose higher: little Lisa went

And I am lonely.

The world is great: the wind comes rushing by
I wonder where it comes from; sea birds cry
And hurt my heart: my little sister went,

And I am lonely.

The world is great: the people laugh and talk,
And make loud holiday: how fast they walk!
I'm lame, they push me: little Lisa went,
And I am lonely.

From "The Spanish Gypsy.'

GEORGE ELIOT.

Brother and Sister

But were another childhood-world my share,

I would be born a little sister there.

I

I cannot choose but think upon the time

When our two lives grew like two buds that kiss
At lightest thrill from the bee's swinging chime,
Because the one so near the other is.

He was the elder and a little man
Of forty inches, bound to show no dread,
And I the girl that puppy-like now ran,
Now lagged behind my brother's larger tread.

I held him wise, and when he talked to me
Of snakes and birds, and which God loved the
best,

I thought his knowledge marked the boundary
Where men grew blind, though angels knew the

rest.

If he said "Hush!" I tried to hold my breath;
Wherever he said "Come!" I stepped in faith.

II

Long years have left their writing on my brow,
But yet the freshness and the dew-fed beam
Of those young mornings are about me now,
When we two wandered toward the far-off stream

The Inglenook