All night long their nets they threw To the stars in the twinkling foam-- Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe, Bringing the fishermen home; ’Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed As if it could not be, And some folks thought ’twas a dream they’d dreamed Of sailing that beautiful sea-- But I shall name you the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes, And Nod is a little head, And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies Is a wee one’s trundle-bed. So shut your eyes while mother sings Of wonderful sights that be, And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock in the misty sea, Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, And Nod. GOLD AND LOVE FOR DEARIE Out on the mountain over the town, All night long, all night long, The trolls go up and the trolls go down, Bearing their packs and singing a song; And this is the song the hill-folk croon, As they trudge in the light of the misty moon-- This is ever their dolorous tune: “Gold, gold! ever more gold-- Bright red gold for dearie!” Deep in the hill a father delves All night long, all night long; None but the peering, furtive elves Sees his toil and hears his song; Merrily ever the cavern rings As merrily ever his pick he swings, And merrily ever this song he sings: “Gold, gold! ever more gold-- Bright red gold for dearie!” Mother is rocking thy lowly bed All night long, all night long, Happy to smooth thy curly head, To hold thy hand and to sing her song: ’Tis not of the hill-folk dwarfed and old, Nor the song of thy father, stanch and bold, And the burthen it beareth is not of gold, But it’s “Love, love! nothing but love Mother’s love for dearie!” THE PEACE OF CHRISTMAS-TIME Dearest, how hard it is to say That all is for the best, Since, sometimes, in a grievous way God’s will is manifest. See with what hearty, noisy glee Our little ones to-night Dance round and round our Christmas tree With pretty toys bedight. Dearest, one voice they may not hear, One face they may not see-- Ah, what of all this Christmas cheer Cometh to you and me? Cometh before our misty eyes That other little face, And we clasp, in tender, reverent wise, That love in the old embrace. Dearest, the Christ-Child walks to-night, Bringing his peace to men, And he bringeth to you and to me the light Of the old, old years again. Bringeth the peace of long ago, When a wee one clasped your knee And lisped of the morrow--dear one, you know-- And here come back is he!