The patient child whose watchful eye
Strives after all things pure and high,
Shall take their image by and by.
—Anonymous.
LULLABY OF AN INFANT CHIEF
O, hush thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight,
Thy mother a lady both lovely and bright;
The woods and the glens, from the towers which we see,
They all are belonging, dear babie, to thee.