Part 3

The yellow color fills the sky, The time is slipping fast; The hours of sun are all but gone; Another day is passed.

From drowsy lands of purpleness The winds come singing in; The lilac bush holds shadows now Where banded bees have been.

Come softly, little Twilight Man, And spread the blanket down, Tuck in the edges of the dark Around the weary town.

THE DREAM-SHIP

A sweet little ship sailed up from the south With a cargo of baby dreams, Of dolls and kittens And warm little mittens And rose colored peppermint creams; A wee wind wafted it on its way And it sailed along at the close of day, Down the sleepy streets, where the lights were lit To leave each child some wonderful bit. “O hush, little child, if you want a dream, You must close your eyes,--ah yes! For the dream-ship carries a gift for you More lovely than you can guess; Perhaps a moon that will shine all day Perhaps a gown of a color gay Or a queer little fish In a silver dish Sail away little boat, and away!”

A PRAYER AT EVENING

Who made the rose so sweet and red, Who made the blue sky overhead, Who made the river and the sea-- I thank Him now, on bended knee.

And when tomorrow’s sun is up And shines upon the lily cup, May I awake again, to see Its loving brightness over me.

THE WILLOW TREE

When the day is nearly over, and the shadows are all gray, There’s a place in father’s garden where I dearly love to stay; For I’m tired of all my lessons, and I’m weary of my play, When the day is nearly over, and the shadows are all gray.

There’s a motherly old willow growing close against the wall, And I climb up in her branches, and I know I cannot fall, For she rocks me very softly, in her gentle, loving way, When the day is nearly over, and the shadows are all gray.

Softly to her leaves and branches come the breezes of the night And they sing me songs of slumber, in the dim and restful light; “Sleep and slumber, sleep and slumber, little child,” they seem to say, “For the day is nearly over, and the shadows are all gray.”

THE FAIRY’S NAME WAS WHISPER

The fairy’s name was Whisper, and she flew around at night; She filled the lamps of evening, and she set the grasses right; She waked a lazy glow-worm, where the mossy wood-spring drips, And hushed the noisy froggies, with her finger on her lips.

“It’s time to sleep! It’s time to sleep!” she told the forest birds; She soothed the hurried river, with a chant of magic words; And, finding Billy Beaver, who had planned to work at night, She sent him off to bed at once, by winking fire-fly light.

The fairy’s name was Whisper; and this I know is true; And when she’d hung the mists out, there were other things to do; She caught her robes about her, and she flew from door to door, To set the babies sleeping, in a hundred homes or more.

And here’s a little baby, who would like to stay awake, For happy lights are riding, in the boats upon the lake; And here a baby cuddles,--and here a baby cries,-- And Whisper finds the newest one, and shuts her tiny eyes.

And do the mothers see her? O never; not at all; The kitten doesn’t see her, nor the clock upon the wall; But all the nodding babies, who lie, or walk, or creep; Know, “Whisper’s come to see us;” and then--they’re--off--to--sleep.

FIRE-FLIES

Over the meadow they’re flying low, Bright little runaway stars, And I sit by the window and watch them glow Over the pasture bars; They’re almost afraid to burn very bright For fear they’ll be hurried back tonight; So they shine out a minute,--then hide their light, Wise little runaway stars!

Far up above them the other stars (Poor little patient things!) Sit in the sky and study the clouds Folding their sad little wings; With the stern moon to watch them they sit and sigh: “Won’t lessons be over, by and by? We want to go down to the earth and fly!” Runaway, runaway stars!

THE LADY NIGHT

The Lady Night has come again And all the winds are still; I close my eyes, and lean my head Upon the window sill;

The sky is buttoned with the stars, The hills have hid the sun, And through the meadow, far away, I hear the river run;

In daytime, when the sun is out And all the flowers are gay, I laugh and shout, and run about, And tumble in the hay;

But when the Lady Night has come From lands behind the hill, She lays her finger on my lips And makes me very still.

THE MARCH OF THE SHADOWS

From over western hill-tops, where the ruddy sun has dropped, There comes a line of shadows, marching down, They are clothed in softest gray, and they’re marching all the way, From the distant, purple hill-tops to the town.

For their Shadow-King in silence leads them marching, marching on Across the meadow lands along the lane Where the glow-worm’s lamp is gleaming, and the poppy flower is dreaming And the summer wind is stealing through the grain.

For the evening dew has fallen, and the evening mists are low, And every blossom wears a silver crown; While the winds are singing, sighing, and the day is paling, dying, They are marching, marching, marching to the town.

THE STAR-LIGHTER

Come quickly, little sister-girl, the stars are being lit, The night from down the dusky hills is creeping, bit by bit, The baby moon is sailing; O, just come out and see, How the Nightman lights the pretty stars for little you and me!

For he’s the fairy of the skies, and wears a robe of blue, He’s old as all the years there are, and yet as young as you, He has a magic torch to hold; it reaches up so far That, standing on the hill-top, he can light the farthest star.

And one by one they twinkle out, so very glad and bright We’re sure he must have touched them with his magic torch of light; Look up there, little sister-girl, beyond the hill, and see The big new one that’s glowing now, for little you and me!

Oh, isn’t Nightman good to us, to light the stars o’ nights? He shows us every evening just the prettiest of sights; For he’s the fairy of the skies--he wears a robe of blue-- And old as all the years is he--yet just as young as you.

A BALLAD OF THREE

We’re going to build a ship some day, Bobby, and baby, and I, A ship to carry us far away, Bobby, and baby and I; A swift white ship in which to ride With a sail of a cobweb, strong and wide, We’ll launch it away on the blue, blue tide, Bobby, and baby and I.

We’ll all climb in, with our baby cat, Bobby, and baby, and I, The sun may be hot, but we won’t mind that, Bobby, and baby, and I; For we’ll sail away to a country fair And all that we want will be waiting there. It’s a long, long way, but we know where, Bobby, and baby, and I.

We’ll play all day, till the moon comes up, Bobby, and baby, and I; Then we’ll drink some cream from a silver cup, Bobby, and baby, and I; And we’ll go to sleep by a drooping tree That dips its arms in the sweet blue sea To fish up dreams for just us three,-- Bobby, and baby, and I.

THE STAR-SHIPS

Up on the waves of the great sea-sky Where the moon island dreamily floats Sailing about, with laughter and shout, Are thousands of gay little boats; And some are quite large,--they are nearer, you see, And some very faint and afar; Each little boat has a bright little sail And each little sail is a star.

And “Come up and drift!” they are calling to me “The sea is blue and so wide”; And the little sails wink, and its pleasant to think That each longs to take me to ride; But sadly I say: “You are too far away”; And their light trembles down on my face; So hailing the brightest, far upward I send My heart’s dearest wish in my place.

THE YELLOW CITY LIGHTS

Through the rain and mist they’re shining; O yellow city lights, How good you are to twinkle so on dark and windy nights! Through the puddles splash the horses, and below the window glass I can see the wet umbrellas of the people as they pass,

O yellow city lights--O yellow city lights! How brave you are to twinkle so on dark and rainy nights! For the wind is blowing, blowing, and the water comes in sheets Against the sides of houses, and all up and down the streets.

You are friendlier than the stars I think, O lights in proud array, The stars are all magnificent, but cold and far away, And they never dare to twinkle, on dark and stormy nights, While you shine out as brave as brave, O yellow city lights!

THE PILOT WIND

The wind is caught in the lilac bush It struggles a-while, in vain, And then, with one little wilful push, It comes fluttering out again It skips a-whispering up the path It slips within the door To rock the boat, that’s set afloat On the sea of the nursery floor.

“Sleep little sailor,” it’s singing low, “I’ve come to rock your ship; I rock it away where the sleep waves play, And the soft, gray dream gulls dip; I’ll rock it away till you reach at last The shores of a strange blue land Then I’ll kiss your hair, and leave you there With the rudder in your hand.”

The wind is back in the lilac bush It lies there happy, quite, With the blossoms bent like a purple tent To hold it there, all night; “I’ve rocked the sailor away,” it says, “And he’ll not come back, I think, Till the stars grow white in the morning light And the dawn is brushed with pink.”

ROCKING SONG

Sleepyheart and Openeyes were rocking in a chair-- (Swing, little shadow, on the wall!) Openeyes was saying, “I shall wander in the moon, And toss a golden comet for a ball.” Sleepyheart was saying, “I shall not go out, I think, For all the stars in heaven are going winky-wink.”

Sleepyheart and Openeyes were rocking in a chair-- (Swing little shadow, to and fro!) Openeyes was saying, “For the night was made for play; I shall never go to bed again, I know.” Sleepyheart was saying, “I shall buy a little dream, And eat it just at cradle-time, with sugar, and with cream.”

The chair was rocking, rocking, and the room was very still-- (Swing little shadow to the tune!) Openeyes was saying, “Through the window over there She is coming in to dance with us--the moon!” Sleepyheart was saying, “There’s a boat upon the sea; It’s sailing off to Whisperland, and coming in for me.”

Sleepyheart was nodding now; Openeyes was still-- (Swing, little shadow, very slow!) Out across the clover-tops the little wind had cried, “Away to Slumber Forest you shall go!” Birds and bees and butterflies had answered to the call; Quiet as a dreaming thing, the shadow on the wall.

THE LAUGHTER-MILL

Joy was the chief of the laughter-mill; high on a sun-topped peak He had builded it up at the rainbow’s end, happily, week by week; And years and years and years had passed; and still the old mill stood Strong as a fort; and it worked away, singing the song of the good.

Joy was the chief of the laughter-mill; in it worked Fun and Gay And Dimple-my-Chin and the Chuckle boys, turning the wheels all day; And every night when the sun was low, and they turned away from the door, There were piles of laughs all ready to wear, in good neat rows on the floor.

Some of the laughs were the largest size, as large as a man might please, Some were the kind that were hard to use; there were not so many of these. Some were quite sober, and some were bright, and all were turned up at the ends, With an extra package of Gigglequicks, for young little girls and their friends.

Joy made the styles in his laughter-mill; some of the smiles were sweet; Some were to wear in a happy home, and some were for use on the street; But Dimple-my-Chin and the Chuckle boys worked lovingest, best, I hear, On a soft little laugh that was stirred in a heart, and made of a precious tear.

LITTLE SISTER OF THE MOON

Little sister of the moon lived upon a steep Where the road wound upward, to the hill of sleep; There she slept, the daytimes, in a mossy cave Where nights the shadows gathered, and dancing lessons gave.

At eight o’clock each night she woke: “It’s time to rise, I guess”; She shook her tangled hair out, and donned a silver dress; She washed her hands in water, that ran as cold as snow, And packed a little basket, with the sweetest things that grow.

And then she sang; “And now, away!” and flew up to the sky, The owl’s child saw her going, and blinked a sober eye; The willow threw her kisses, and the breeze laughed, “I’m along,” And helped her bear the basket, and sang a sweetheart song.

The moon, her patient sister, was waiting in the blue, How could she leave for supper, with so many things to do? She must keep the little stars awake, and put the breeze to sleep; And scare away the cloud-folk, who crowded round like sheep.

So Little Sister comes to her; she flies before her face. She spreads her silver gown out, and bows a low “Your Grace!” With the dipper for a saucer, and a comet for a spoon, She mixes sweets with fire and dew, and feeds them to the moon.

THE SANDMAN’S WIFE

The little brown sandman lives, you know, On the top of the hill where the poppies grow; The roof of his house is a great toadstool With a wee bell-tower, like the village school; And tumbling and heaping about the door Are piles of sand from the white seashore.

The little brown sandman, bent and thin, Has a deep blue cloak that he wraps up in; His peaked hat has a star on top And he fastens his cloak with a green gumdrop; He’s always sleepy; a slow man he; And he stretches and yawns at half-past three.

Now the greatest joy in the sandman’s life Is Polly M’ Pumpkin, the sandman’s wife; She’s a round little soul, with a rosy face, And she bustles and bounces about the place; The children the sandman goes to see _She_ loves a great deal more than he.

At seven o’clock, on every night, She lights his lamp with a fagot bright; Then Polly M’ Pumpkin wakes him up As he sits asleep, by his blue tea-cup; “The children are nodding now,” she cries, “Go sprinkle the sea-sand upon their eyes!”

And she hands him a sack, when he blinks and starts, “For My Sleepiest Children” (ah, bless their hearts!) And quite unknown to the brown sandman She has mixed it up, as she only can, With magical sugar, as sweet as a rose, That brings good dreams wherever it goes.

“Now hurry away!” she cries, and stands, On the flat door-stone, and waves her hands; The little brown sandman slips away Till he’s lost in the stars of the milky way; “He’d never get started in all his life, If it wasn’t for me,” says the sandman’s wife.

Then she climbs the bell-tower, up on the house, And she peers about, like a bright-eyed mouse; And she says to herself, as she always does, “I’ll let him sleep some night, because _I’m_ going to go, in my husband’s place,” And a mischievous smile lights up her face.

DREAMS FOR THREE

Three little dreams flew in from the south And they flew in a swift straight line And one was a dream of peaches and cream And that little dream was mine; I dreamed that a pretty white cloth was spread With the round moon set for a dish And I ate in state of peaches and cream As much as my heart could wish.

The next little dream was a funny one; It came to Molly O’Lear; She thought that she rode on a great green goose That bucked like a Texas steer; It flopped about, till it knocked her off, And it cackled “Gingerbread Joke;” And Molly wondered what that could be, And while she was wondering, woke.

The last little dream was the best of all. It flew to Elizabeth Lee. She swung in a hammock, embroidered with snails, Way up to the top of a tree; And there she found, all cuddled away, In a sort of a cottony nest, The Little Lost Princess of Shut-Eye town;-- No wonder her dream was best.

LADY MOTHER

Mother’s face by candlelight Stars aglow, without, Just my little room at night Shadows all about; Other places Other faces Never half so dear; Lady mother, stay with me, Very, very near.

Mother’s hands to hold mine fast Candle burning, low, Wind across the gable roofs Singing sad and slow; Other hands In other lands Never were so good; I would hold them always here If I only could.

Stay with me, dear lady mother Sing me off to sleep; Sing of stars and candlelight, Love so deep, so deep.

THE ROAD TO GLAD TOMORROW

Across the hills it winds away Between the fields of clover The road that leads from Glad Today; See, little child, look over; It leaves behind your Wonder-World Without a sigh or sorrow; Child, beneath the apple bough For your dear sake I name it now-- The Road to Glad Tomorrow.