So sleepy and demure is my wee Gracie,
So long and sober grows the little facie,
So silent are the red, red lips so sweet,
So quiet are the little hands and feet,
I know, yes, well I know
My Gracie wants to go
Into the soft, white nest where every night
My birdie folds her wings till morning light.
And now beside my knee the pretty lisper
Her evening prayer with folded hands must whisper,
While baby sister sleeps on mother’s breast,
Lulled with our voices low to dreamy rest.
Then in her nightie white,
My restless sunbeam bright
Is hidden from her shoulders to her feet,
And tucked away in slumber soft and sweet.
MORNING.
A merry, white-robed figure at my side,
A laughing face, with blue eyes opened wide.
Red lips that kiss me in the early dawn
And tell me fast enough that night is gone.
Ripe and ready for play,
In the early morning gray,
Restless again are the small hands and feet,
Silent no longer, little lips so sweet.
Where is the sunbeam like my Gracie’s eyes?
Blue as the blue of summer’s bluest skies!
What sweeter wakening could be mine than this
The soft “Good morning!” of my daughter’s kiss?
And thus each hour of day
Girl Gracie claims for play
Till comes the “Sand-man” with the twilight hour
And play has vanished ’neath his mystic power.
A MAGPIE AND HER NEST.
The magpie is a very handsome bird. He knows he is handsome, too. He has a fine broad tail. There is a band of purple near the end of each feather, and the end is green and purple.
He walks about with this handsome tail perked in the air. He does not drag it in the dirt, not he!