slum ber ing
breezes
prai rie
[Illustration]
Rock-a-by, hush-a-by, little pappoose,
The stars come into the sky;
The whip-po’-will’s crying, the daylight is dying,
The river runs murmuring by.
The pine trees are slumbering, little pappoose,
The squirrel has gone to his nest;
The robins are sleeping, the mother bird’s keeping
The little ones warm with her breast.
The roebuck is dreaming, my little pappoose,
His mate lies asleep at his side;
The breezes are pining, the moonbeams are shining
All over the prairies wide.
Then hush-a-by, rock-a-by, little pappoose,
You sail on the river of dreams;
Dear Manitou loves you, and watches above you,
Till time when the morning light gleams.
—CHARLES MYALL.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: In Story Land]
[Illustration]