Soon shall my dearie be far afloat;
Mother’s lap is Lullaby-land,
Mother’s arms are the empty boat,
Waiting to carry her darling o’er
The sweet rocking waters to Dreamland-shore.
—Edith Colby Banfield.
THE STONE BLOCKS
“Why is your little sister crying, dear?” asked the Play Angel. “I thought you were taking care of her.”