And all the way from the cottage bright Where our mother Eve once sung, The same sweet words have been spoken oft; And the echoes clear have rung Through the summer glades and upon the hills That were wrapped in robes of snow, The sweet child voices oft have said, “We’ve a baby; did you know?” We all forget what our griefs have been, And the toils and tears and strife, As the wee bright angels come to earth, Just born to an endless life; And the words will fall like a holy thrill, As adown life’s path we go, And listen yet to the echoes sweet, “We’ve a baby; did you know?” LULLABY OF THE MOON Softly sway the little cradle; Softly in the quiet night Let my pure beams touch the darling, As I kissed Eve’s babies bright. As I played among the tresses Of her lovely Abel’s head, As I poured my floods of silver ’Round her happy ones long fled. When the grand old Ark was building, Noah’s babies then I kissed, And they laughed and cooed their welcome, When full-orbed I cheered the east. Through the long and fearful Deluge I was hidden from the Ark, But when cleared away the tempest And the sky was chill and dark, Then I rose, my lamp full-burning, Pouring silver on the flood, Till the mighty, shoreless ocean, Sparkling, shouted praise to God. How I watched the Ark while billows Were returning to their place, And glad hearts from Noah’s window So rejoiced to see my face. Sway the little cradle softly; Let me touch the darling’s cheek. Every darling, through the ages, In their thoughts to me will speak. Baby lips for me are smiling; Baby fingers point to me, When my silver sails spread widest On the great, blue, silent sea. BABY’S BED Baby’s little bed should be White as drifting snow; Pure and sweet as Heaven’s air, Where the soft clouds glow. Baby’s tiny coverlet Should be lambs’ wool white, Dainty as the pelican, Fluffy, warm and light. Baby’s pillow should be made Light as eider down, With a cover clean and soft As its little gown. Pin a rose upon the wall, Something great or small, Place where baby’s eyes can see In its quiet revery. Baby understands the flowers; They will cheer its waking hours. Place the feathered songster near; Let him trill for baby’s ear.