And hurry back by the break of day;
By break of day, through dale and down,
And bring me the news from Slumbertown.

Mary F. Butts.

_Bed-Time_

'Tis bed-time; say your hymn, and bid "Good night,
"God bless mamma, papa, and dear ones all."
Your half-shut eyes beneath your eye-lids fall;
Another minute you will shut them quite.
Yes, I will carry you, put out the light,
And tuck you up, although you are so tall.
What will you give me, Sleepy One, and call
My wages, if I settle you all right?
I laid her golden curls upon my arm,
I drew her little feet within my hand;
Her rosy palms were joined in trustful bliss,
Her heart next mine, beat gently, soft and warm;
She nestled to me, and, by Love's command,
Paid me my precious wages,--Baby's kiss.

Lord Rosslyn.

_Nightfall in Dordrecht_[A]

The mill goes toiling slowly around
With steady and solemn creak,
And my little one hears in the kindly sound
The voice of the old mill speak.
While round and round those big white wings
Grimly and ghostlike creep,
My little one hears that the old mill sings:
"Sleep, little tulip, sleep!"

The sails are reefed and the nets are drawn,
And, over his pot of beer,
The fisher, against the morrow's dawn,
Lustily maketh cheer;
He mocks at the winds that caper along
From the far-off clamorous deep--
But we--we love their lullaby song
Of "Sleep, little tulip, sleep!"

Old dog Fritz in slumber sound
Groans of the stony mart--
To-morrow how proudly he'll trot you round,
Hitched to our new milk-cart!
And you shall help me blanket the kine
And fold the gentle sheep
And set the herring a-soak in brine--
But now, little tulip, sleep!

A Dream-One comes to button the eyes
That wearily droop and blink,
While the old mill buffets the frowning skies
And scolds at the stars that wink;
Over your face the misty wings
Of that beautiful Dream-One sweep,
And rocking your cradle she softly sings:
"Sleep, little tulip, sleep!"

Eugene Field.

FOOTNOTE:

[A] _From "With Trumpet and Drum," by Eugene Field.