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 needn'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. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOREFATHERS by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN THE OLD SANTA FE TRAIL by RICHARD EUGENE BURTON BORDER BALLAD [OR MARCH, OR SONG], FR. THE MONASTERY by WALTER SCOTT YARROW UNVISITED by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH YARROW VISITED by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH YEW-TREES by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE STORY OF ZERBIN AND ISABELLA, FR. ORLANDO FURIOSO by LUDOVICO (LODOVICO) ARIOSTO |