[Illustration]
BABY'S dreams are very bright,
Though they come at dead of night,
When the house is still;
For a moonbeam comes to take her
Where the sweetest sounds shall wake her,
Where she'll play at will.
In the dreamland, far away,
There do sleeping babies play,
There they laugh and walk.
All the day their speech is gone--
Not a foot to stand upon--
There they leap and talk.
There the pretty candle-blaze,
When they clutch it, brightly stays;
There the stars so grand
Come to meet the outstretched arm,
Leap all sparkling to the palm
Of the little hand.
But in all that wondrous place,
Still is smiling, mother's face;
Mother's touch is there;
And like music sweet and low,
Though the baby does not know,
Breathes the mother's prayer.
So the baby laughs and plays
Through the happy dreamland ways
(Close to heaven, maybe),
Till the merry sunbeams take her
To her bed, and gently wake her.
--Now, come see to Baby!
[Illustration]
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