COTTAGE SONGS.

Close her eyes: she must not peep!

Let her little puds go slack;

Slide away far into sleep:

Sis will watch till she comes back!

Mother's knitting at the door,

Waiting till the kettle sings;

When the kettle's song is o'er

She will set the bright tea-things.

Father's busy making hay

In the meadow by the brook,

Not so very far away —

Close its peeps, it need n't look!

God is round us everywhere —

Sees the scythe glitter and rip;

Watches baby gone somewhere;

Sees how mother's fingers skip!

Sleep, dear baby; sleep outright:

Mother's sitting just behind:

Father's only out of sight;

God is round us like the wind.