Part 1

BABY-LAND

BY _Wild-Bird_ Mrs. Almira L. Corey Frink

Edited by Olive Bacon Frink Denver, Colorado

_Copyright, 1911, by Olive Bacon Frink_

Contents

Transcriber's Note: This Table of Contents was created by the transcriber to assist the reader.

Dedication 2 “There’s a Baby Born” 5 “Did You Know?” 6 Lullaby of the Moon 8 Baby’s Bed 10 Babies 12 Lullaby of the Arctic 13 Baby Noah 14 Lullaby of the Ocean 16 Keep Warm the Baby’s Feet 17 Lullaby of the Forest 18 Our Kitty 19 Mother’s Lullaby 20 Wintergreen Berries 21 The Cradle Song of the Rockies 22 The Cradle Song of the Nile 23 Snow-birds 25 The Miner’s Cradle Song 26 Eve’s Care 27 The Oriole’s Song 28 Lullaby of the Oriole 30 The Mother to Her Sleeping Babe 31 The Baptism 36 Ode to the Moon 37 The Moon and Her Star 39 Pansies 40 My Baby 41 Baby’s Cup 42 Be a Baby While You Can 43 Mother Eve 45 Lullaby of the Thrush 46 Baby’s Chilly Ride 47 Baby’s Medicine 49 Baby’s Bath 51 The Farmer’s Cradle Song 52 The Little Fawn 53 Our Baby 55 Lilies 57 The Diver’s Cradle Song 58 The Rising Generation 59 Why the Babies Went Home 62 Blessings of God 63 Kindness to All 65 Chorus of the Flowers 66 The Cornstalk Chair 67 Little Old Baby Clothes 69 Lullaby of the Roses 71 Lullaby of the Sun 73 Earth’s Requiem for the Little Ones 74 Darling Baby 75 The Ancient of Days 76 Little Shoes 78 There’s an Angel Here 79 “Waking Up the Stars” 80 Lullaby of the Stars 81 Roses 83 Mother Earth’s Lullaby 84 Lullaby of the Rain-drops 86 Kissing the Sunbeam 88 Jewel of the Cradle 90 Baby Sweet 91 Angel of the Cradle 92 Let Angels Name It 94 The Two Cradles 96 My Darling Unborn 98 Our First-Born 100 The Mother’s Thoughts on the Death of Her First-Born 101 Angel-Twin 103 Our Children 104

DEDICATION

Father of Lights, to Thee I give These scattered notes; and as they glide O’er hilltops bright and valleys wide; O’er hamlet, old with penury, Or palace filled with luxury; O’er city and o’er wilderness; O’er hearts in gladness or distress, O, give them, Lord, Thy smile indeed, And make them like the winged seed, That spreads on high its silken plumes, Comes softly down, takes root and blooms, Forever in the heart to live. WILD-BIRD.

“THERE’S A BABY BORN”

Hark! the shining stars are singing, And the azure skies are ringing: Angels joyful news are bringing, “There’s a baby born.”

Child of Deity, unfolding In a form of heavenly molding; Endless life in frailest holding, Sweet as rosy morn!

“DID YOU KNOW?”

The soft winds played in the summer grove, That the sunlight made aglow, When a small face peered through the garden gate ’Mong the roses pure as snow: And in sweet, shy tones came the wondrous words, “We’ve a baby; did you know?”

The passer-by caught the accents soft, And the words seemed to linger there, Like the fragrant breath of the sweet June rose On the summer’s balmy air. And the stranger smiled ’neath his load of cares, And the sunlight seemed to glow With a brighter beam, as the echoes came, “We’ve a baby; did you know?”

And all the way from the cottage bright Where our mother Eve once sung, The same sweet words have been spoken oft; And the echoes clear have rung Through the summer glades and upon the hills That were wrapped in robes of snow, The sweet child voices oft have said, “We’ve a baby; did you know?”

We all forget what our griefs have been, And the toils and tears and strife, As the wee bright angels come to earth, Just born to an endless life; And the words will fall like a holy thrill, As adown life’s path we go, And listen yet to the echoes sweet, “We’ve a baby; did you know?”

LULLABY OF THE MOON

Softly sway the little cradle; Softly in the quiet night Let my pure beams touch the darling, As I kissed Eve’s babies bright. As I played among the tresses Of her lovely Abel’s head, As I poured my floods of silver ’Round her happy ones long fled.

When the grand old Ark was building, Noah’s babies then I kissed, And they laughed and cooed their welcome, When full-orbed I cheered the east. Through the long and fearful Deluge I was hidden from the Ark, But when cleared away the tempest And the sky was chill and dark,

Then I rose, my lamp full-burning, Pouring silver on the flood, Till the mighty, shoreless ocean, Sparkling, shouted praise to God. How I watched the Ark while billows Were returning to their place, And glad hearts from Noah’s window So rejoiced to see my face.

Sway the little cradle softly; Let me touch the darling’s cheek. Every darling, through the ages, In their thoughts to me will speak. Baby lips for me are smiling; Baby fingers point to me, When my silver sails spread widest On the great, blue, silent sea.

BABY’S BED

Baby’s little bed should be White as drifting snow; Pure and sweet as Heaven’s air, Where the soft clouds glow. Baby’s tiny coverlet Should be lambs’ wool white, Dainty as the pelican, Fluffy, warm and light. Baby’s pillow should be made Light as eider down, With a cover clean and soft As its little gown. Pin a rose upon the wall, Something great or small, Place where baby’s eyes can see In its quiet revery. Baby understands the flowers; They will cheer its waking hours. Place the feathered songster near; Let him trill for baby’s ear.

Baby understands sweet song, With no words of right or wrong. Guileless babies. Jesus told How, within the Heavenly Fold, All the little ones, in grace See our Father’s blessed face. There what holy song they learn, Ne’er to evil ways to turn. Half the soul-buds of the world Go to Heaven to be unfurled; In that Home where ne’er was heard Thought of sin or evil word. Baby’s bed is ready now. See the gladness light its brow. Softly tuck the velvet feet; Kiss the dimpled fingers sweet; Gently sing a lullaby, Till Love shuts its starry eye. Baby’s bed’s a sacred place, Free from every guile. E’en the weariest of earth Can but look and smile. Be not proud, the angels there Guard the precious one with care, And the light from Pearly Gates Shines across the bed, Where the shining angel waits At the cradle head. Sweetest vigils we will keep, Hush! the darling is asleep.

BABIES

Darling babies, precious babies! To the cradles flocking, flocking; Little men and little women In the cradles rocking, rocking.

Sweetest baby voices cooing; Dimpled fingers clasping, playing; Baby smiles and baby glances, From the cradles swaying, swaying.

O! the stars may pale in ashes, And the sun may cease its glowing; But these new-born souls forever Must be onward going, going!

Bless these tender hearts, O Saviour! With Thy love these loves entwining; Make them Thine own fadeless jewels. In Thy crown forever shining.

LULLABY OF THE ARCTIC

Sleep, baby, sleep;—safe from the storm, Hid in thy wrappings downy and warm Tell all the drifting snow Tell all the winds that blow, That they must softly go; Baby is here.

Sleep, baby, sleep; storm-clouds have fled, And not a snow-flake touched baby’s bed! Tell the Aurora bright, Tell all the stars of night, Send down your cheery light; Baby is here!

Sleep, baby, sleep: God holds the world: His starry banner now is unfurled. Hear what the angels say, Sent on their shining way, One soul is pure as they; Baby is here.

BABY NOAH

When Mother Lamech’s baby boy In the bright hammock swung, And Grandpapa Methuselah Some cheery anthem sung, As baby Noah sucked his thumb, Or played with wee pink toes, He knew not of the flood to come With all its startling woes.

And when he clapped to see the stars Peer through the heavens dark, He did not know his dimpled hands Would plan the precious Ark. He knew not that the baby voice Then learning “lullaby” Must yet be by the nations heard, Sent by the King on high;

That he must preach the coming Christ, The Saviour yet to die, And men would scoff and hate his name And pass his warnings by; That violence in all the earth Would run its riot free, Until the storm and cyclone came,— Avenging powers to be.

And when the birds of morning sang The chorus of the groves, And baby Noah cooed and laughed To see the bright-winged doves, He knew not that on Ararat The other side the Flood, He would send forth a bird like that To bring him tidings good.

So we, who shield our little ones And guide their baby feet, Know not the bitter that may come, Or snares hid in the sweet. We hold their hands and kiss their lips, We wrap them in our love; And yet a little while and then Who’ll guide them when they rove?

Lord Jesus, Saviour of the lambs, Bless Thou these little ones; Teach us, O Lord, that _we_ may teach Thy daughters and Thy sons; That we may right examples set, In pleasure or in straits; That they may in our footsteps go And enter Pearly Gates.

LULLABY OF THE OCEAN

Rest, darling, rest, On Ocean’s breast, Millions of star-worlds are mirrored to-night Till the great deep is all sparkling with light; O the blue sea is a glorious sight, Rocking my baby till morning shines bright! Rest, baby, rest, On the sea’s breast; Beautiful Deep, Rock us to sleep!

When the sea roars, And the storm pours, And the great billows so fearfully reel, And the loud thunders burst peal upon peal, Jesus, our Lord, lays His hand on the wheel, Then the great waves come sobbing and kneel. Rest, baby, rest, On the sea’s breast; Beautiful Deep, Rock us to sleep!

KEEP WARM THE BABY’S FEET

O mother of the darling sweet, Keep warm, keep warm the baby’s feet! Would you make strong the tiny form, Against disease, against the storm, Then keep the precious feet most warm!

Countless little graves now hold The tiny form within their fold, Because in life their feet were cold. Then, mother of the darling sweet, Keep warm, keep warm the baby’s feet!

LULLABY OF THE FOREST

Sweet is summer’s breeze Through the leafy trees, Where the honeysuckles grow, And the violets below Open wide their bright blue eyes, Looking towards the sunny skies. Sleep, while gentle south winds blow Over blossoms white as snow.

Now the sunset bird By his trill has stirred All the evening songsters near; What a warbling choir is here! And the chorus “Whippoorwill” Calls from every vine-clad hill. Sleep, while all the birdies sing Praises to our Saviour King.

In the leafy nest Songsters are at rest; All the little ground birds hide ’Neath the grassy curtains wide; In its well-made mossy bed Every squirrel rests its head. Sleep, my little precious bud From the Paradise of God.

OUR KITTY

Kitty was playing with one little ball, A ball that was hung on a string; Its bright eyes were dancing in merriest glee, Watching how far it would swing. And dear little puss, as quick as a dart, Would dash it, when near her it swung; But kitty could only laugh out of her eyes, For joy that a ball could be strung.

O frolicsome kitty! Say, why did you come Where somebody often gets cross? You don’t know what rough words may meet you in life, When there’s not a play-ball to toss! Then Truth answered me in a sweet, loving tone, And said that wee kitty had come To teach little children to ever be kind And tender to pets in the home.

The velvet is soft on the small, fragile paws; And if it with gentleness meet, ’Tis seldom that any will know it has claws, Or learn there are pins in its feet. And kitty is come to show us a way To work for a wonderful thing; When lions and lambs together shall play, And all hearts together shall sing!

MOTHER’S LULLABY

Never fear, darling, nor start at a sound; Mother’s arm foldeth thee tenderly ’round. Mother’s heart beats for thee; rest on it, love; Mother’s voice sings for thee, soft as a dove.

Go to sleep, baby, and grow to be strong. Mother will teach thee a beautiful song; Beautiful song that together we’ll sing In the Bright Land, that forever is Spring.

O soft, little feet, lie still in the wrap, For ten little toes are needing a nap; One little hand reaches up for a kiss; Baby can’t sleep without mother’s caress!

But mother is worn and weary to-night, Go to sleep, baby, till morning is bright. Mother wakes easy; don’t fear if she nod; For nobody loves like mother and God.

WINTERGREEN BERRIES

’Twas a cold, rough day As we sped away In the grand old Michigan woods; And the forest flowers, ’Mid the windy hours, Hid back in their wee, warm hoods.

But we searched the ground, And the red drops found ’Neath their shining parasols green; Two or three on a stem, Each a round, ruby gem, ’Neath coverts of emerald sheen.

O little, bright globes! In your wee, red robes, And hid under sweet, scented leaves, O why do you grow, Hid away till the snow Its great white coverlet weaves?

But the berries cried, “We were made to hide, Till the dear, little hands shall come And bear us away For their own sweet play, In the corner of some glad home.”

THE CRADLE SONG OF THE ROCKIES

Father has gone to the mountains for gold Hid for his baby for ages untold; He will come home when the wind bloweth cold, Calling for baby.

Brother has gone to the mountains to seek Quartz-gems as rosy as baby’s bright cheek; He will bring topaz from valley and peak, Calling for baby.

Sister has gone to the mountains to bring All the bright blossoms that wake in the spring; She will come, blithe as the birdies that sing, Calling for baby.

If we forget thou are lent from the skies, Angels may come from the Father All-Wise, With a great love shining out of their eyes, Calling for baby.

THE CRADLE SONG OF THE NILE

“Lullaby, darling one; now you will ride On the Nile waters so quiet and wide. Let no one say my baby has cried There in the rushes.”

Thus said a mother, and offered a prayer, As the small ark floated daintily there; Leaving to God and His tenderest care The cradle of rushes.

Who is now come to the river to lave? Oh! ’tis the king’s daughter lovely and brave; Bidding her maidens bring in from the wave The cradle of rushes.

Pharaoh’s fair daughter bends low to caress: “Hushaby, pretty one! give me a kiss;— Who ever saw such a cradle as this, Built out of rushes!

“Go! call a Hebrew to nurse it for me:— Sing a glad song till it laughs in its glee. ’Tis well I was first the sweet cherub to see, Hid in the rushes.

“Dress it in raiment of loveliest dyes; Pharaoh’s great gems are not bright as its eyes; This is the king’s daughter’s beautiful prize, Found in the rushes.”

SNOW-BIRDS

Birdies dancing on the snow, Merry as if this were June; And the little wiry feet Skipping to the gayest tune; With no stockings and no shoes, Chirping forth the morning news. O, you’ll freeze your tiny feet While you chipper glad and sweet!

“Freeze?” they chipper, “no, for we Are the snow-birds, don’t you see? This is telling our delight For the morning golden-bright, As we breakfast on the seeds Gathered from the old dry weeds. Does your song of praises flow Glad, as we chirp on the snow?”

THE MINER’S CRADLE SONG

Dig a little farther; baby needs a hood, Cloak, and shoes, and blanket,—everything that’s good. Dig a little farther; never say despair, While the little darling needs a dress and chair.

Sell the watch for candles, make the lantern burn; Soon we’ll strike the treasure with a glad return. Dig a little farther; show us, Lord, the way! For the precious baby we will dig and pray.

Sharpen pick and shovel; see that rope is strong; Turn the windlass careful, lest you hush the song By the little cradle where the baby sleeps, And God’s loving angel ceaseless vigil keeps!

EVE’S CARE

Eve kept her babies carefully warm, Safe from the evening chill, safe from the storm; As the Lord made of skins a garment for her, Eve must have known that the babes needed fur; Cloaks lined with ermine and fluffiest goods, Wraps fringed with camel’s hair; eider down hoods. O, to have seen the sweet darlings of Eve Would have been a great lesson, we well may believe!

THE ORIOLE’S SONG

Dear little orioles rocked in the tree By the sweet summer winds, waiting for me; Waiting for mother the supper to bring; O baby orioles, father will sing! Father will sing as he sits on the bough, Watching his babies wait supper just now. Dear little downy brood, hearing the tune All the bright Baltimores warble in June. You must wear hoods of soft feathery black, With a dark cape coming over your back. The front of your dress must be of bright gold, Almost vermilion, like father’s of old. With feathers white-edged on both little wings; That’s what the oriole wears when he sings. His stockings are azure, the same that they wore In the bright orchestra close to Eve’s door! We never change style; the old one is best: Given of Him Who our forefathers dressed; Days before Eve placed a rose in her hair, The same golden red did the orioles wear. The world is so restless, so hungry for change; Its plans are like billows that o’er the sea range: It alters its patterns, its habits and words; And what would they do were it not for the birds! If we don’t praise Him, and sing when we can, There’ll be a chorus left out of His plan. And when He looks down on the oriole’s tree, There must go up a sweet warble from me. ’Tis all I can give Him for nest on the bough; The song that He taught me, I’m singing it now. Dear baby orioles, learn to sing this; ’Tis the sweet song of the Eden of bliss!

LULLABY OF THE ORIOLE

Your nest is all built, and your birdies are there, Hidden away from the draughts of the air; O pretty songster of garden and glen, Whistle again, birdie, whistle again! “Yapou-yapou! ha-ha! he-he!”

Who taught you to build such a wonderful nest? There you may rock all the night in your rest, Swung by the breezes till morn cometh, then, Whistle again, birdie, whistle again! “Yapou-yapou! ha-ha! he-he!”

O, pretty oriole, where is your mate? Still he is searching and breakfast is late. Call him from hill-top, call him from glen; Whistle again, birdie, whistle again! “Yapou-yapou! ha-ha! he-he!”

THE MOTHER TO HER SLEEPING BABE

Drink, little love, The pearly stream No eye can see That flows for thee; Drink, love, and dream. Sweet baby thought, Fresh and untaught, Bright-winged and free, Glide on and see The golden beams, And silvery streams; The budding flowers And starry bowers That glow and gleam In baby’s dream.

Drink, little love. Thy mother’s eye, Like yonder star That shines afar In azure sky, Is bent on thee Each smile to see; Each want to fill; Each fear to still; And give thee rest Upon her breast.

Her throbbing heart Beats to the song Her lips prolong. Should baby start From fearful dream, A fresher stream Of song will rise From mother then, Till baby’s eyes Close soft again. O little one, Life just begun, Bud newly born, Life’s early morn, Harp newly strung, Song never sung, Angel unknown, Thou art my own!

Saviour, behold, Dearer than gold This pearl of love From God above: Priceless and pure, Gem to endure. Lord, it is Thine; O make it shine With jewels there In holy light, And let me see Its glow so bright, Where glories bloom Beyond the tomb.