There are two stars in yonder steeps
That watch the baby while he sleeps.
But while the baby is awake
And singing gayly all day long,
The little stars their slumbers take
Lulled by the music of his song.
So sleep, dear tired baby, sleep
While little stars their vigils keep.
Beside his loving mother-sheep
A little lambkin is asleep;
What does he know of midnight gloom---
He sleeps, and in his quiet dreams
He thinks he plucks the clover bloom
And drinks at cooling, purling streams.
And those same stars the baby knows
Sing softly to the lamb's repose.
Sleep, little lamb; sleep, little child--
The stars are dim--the night is wild;
But o'er the cot and o'er the lea
A sleepless eye forever beams--
A shepherd watches over thee
In all thy little baby dreams;
The shepherd loves his tiny sheep--
Sleep, precious little lambkin, sleep!
"That is very pretty, indeed!" exclaimed the brass candlestick.
"So it is," replied the little shoe, "but you should hear it sung by
the fairy queen!"
"Did the operetta end with that lullaby?" inquired the cigar-case.
"Oh, no," said the little shoe. "No sooner had the queen finished her
lullaby than an old gran'ma fairy, wearing a quaint mob-cap and large
spectacles, limped forward with her crutch and droned out a curious
ballad, which seemed to be for the special benefit of the boy and girl
fairies, very many of whom were of the company. This ballad was as
follows: