THE BABY PRINCESS
The cradle, carved like an open shell
Of ebony, polished bright,
Was all inlaid with silver rare
That shone in the mellow light,—
Which streamed through the tiny curtains, wove
Of silver gauze and velvet flowers,
And lightly touched the infant’s cheek,
As it lay in satin wrappings, weak,
And slept through the quiet hours;
And the princess dreamed in her costly bed,
With a lady grand at her feet and head;
And never knew nor cared what grace
Had fashioned frills of her dainty lace;
For she dreamed no sweeter while she slept,
Nor suffered less when in pain she wept;
Though the lullaby in the chorus said:
“There’s a sparkling crown for the royal head.”