The Cottager to her Infant
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The Cottager to her Infant
by my Sister
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The days are cold, the nights are long, The north-wind sings a doleful song; Then hush again upon my breast; All merry things are now at rest, xx Save thee, my pretty Love! The kitten sleeps upon the hearth, The crickets long have ceased their mirth; There’s nothing stirring in the house Save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse, xx Then why so busy thou? Nay! start not at that sparkling light; ’Tis but the moon that shines so bright On the window pane bedropped with rain: Then, little Darling! sleep again, xx And wake when it is day. |
Catalogue of Titles