The Treasure Book of Verse

POETRY.

LULLABY OF AN INFANT CHIEF.

O, hush thee, my babie, thy sire was a knight,
Thy mother a lady both lovely and bright;

The woods and the glens from the tower which we see,
They all are belonging, dear babie, to thee.

O, fear not the bugle, though loudly it blows,
It calls but the warders that guard thy repose;
Their bows would be bended, their blades would be red
Ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed.

O, hush thee, my babie, the time soon will come,
When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum ;
Then hush thee, my darling, take rest while you may,
For strife comes with manhood, and waking with day.
Sir Walter Scott.

* 2

THE OLD MAN IN THE WOOD.

There was an old man who lived in a wood,
As you shall plainly see;

He thought he could do more work in one day
Than his wife could do in three.

"With all my heart," the old dame said;
"And if you will allow,

You shall stay at home to-day,
And I'll go follow the plow.

"But you must milk the tiny cow,
Lest she should go quite dry;
And you must feed the little pigs
That are within the sty;

"And you must watch the speckled hen,
Lest she should go astray;

Not forgetting the spool of yarn
That I spin every day."

The old woman took the stick in her hand,

And went to follow the plow;

The old man put the pail on his head,
And went to milk the cow.

But Tiny she winced, and Tiny she flinched,
And Tiny she tossed her nose;

And Tiny gave him a kick on the shin,
Till the blood ran down to his toes.

And a "Ho, Tiny!" and a "So, Tiny!
Pretty little cow, stand still!

If ever I milk you again," he said,
"It shall be against my will."

And then he went to feed the pigs
That were within the sty;

He knocked his nose against the shed,
And caused the blood to fly.

And then he watched the speckled hen,
Lest she should go astray;

But he quite forgot the spool of yarn
That his wife spun every day.