A motherless soft lambkin
Alone upon a hill;
No mother’s fleece to shelter him
And wrap him from the cold:—
I’ll run to him and comfort him,
I’ll fetch him, that I will;
I’ll care for him and feed him
Until he’s strong and bold.

Dancing on the hill-tops,
Singing in the valleys,
Laughing with the echoes,
Merry little Alice.

Playing games with lambkins
In the flowering valleys,
Gathering pretty posies,
Helpful little Alice.

If her father’s cottage
Turned into a palace,
And he owned the hill-tops
And the flowering valleys,
She’d be none the happier,
Happy little Alice.

When fishes set umbrellas up
If the rain-drops run,
Lizards will want their parasols
To shade them from the sun.

The peacock has a score of eyes,
With which he cannot see;
The cod-fish has a silent sound,
However that may be;

No dandelions tell the time,
Although they turn to clocks;
Cat’s-cradle does not hold the cat.
Nor foxglove fit the fox.

Pussy has a whiskered face,
Kitty has such pretty ways;
Doggie scampers when I call,
And has a heart to love us all.

The dog lies in his kennel,
And Puss purrs on the rug,
And baby perches on my knee
For me to love and hug.

Pat the dog and stroke the cat,
Each in its degree;
And cuddle and kiss my baby,
And baby kiss me.

If hope grew on a bush,
And joy grew on a tree,
What a nosegay for the plucking
There would be!

But oh! in windy autumn,
When frail flowers wither,
What should we do for hope and joy,
Fading together?

I planted a hand
And there came up a palm,
I planted a heart
And there came up balm.

Then I planted a wish,
But there sprang a thorn,
While heaven frowned with thunder
And earth sighed forlorn.

Under the ivy bush
One sits sighing,
And under the willow tree
One sits crying:—

Under the ivy bush
Cease from your sighing,
But under the willow tree
Lie down a-dying.

I am a King,
Or an Emperor rather,
I wear crown-imperial
And prince’s-feather;
Golden-rod is the sceptre
I wield and wag,
And a broad purple flag-flower
Waves for my flag.

Elder the pithy
With old-man and sage,
These are my councillors
Green in old age;
Lords-and-ladies in silence
Stand round me and wait,
While gay ragged-robin
Makes bows at my gate.

There is one that has a head without an eye,
And there’s one that has an eye without a head:
You may find the answer if you try;
And when all is said,
Half the answer hangs upon a thread!

If a mouse could fly,
Or if a crow could swim,
Or if a sprat could walk and talk,
I’d like to be like him.

If a mouse could fly,
He might fly away;
Or if a crow could swim,
It might turn him grey;
Or if a sprat could walk and talk,
What would he find to say?

Sing me a song—
What shall I sing?—
Three merry sisters
Dancing in a ring,
Light and fleet upon their feet
As birds upon the wing.

Tell me a tale—
What shall I tell?—
Two mournful sisters,
And a tolling knell,
Tolling ding and tolling dong,
Ding dong bell.

The lily has an air,
And the snowdrop a grace,
And the sweetpea a way,
And the heartsease a face,—
Yet there’s nothing like the rose
When she blows.

Margaret has a milking-pail,
And she rises early;
Thomas has a threshing-flail,
And he’s up betimes.
Sometimes crossing through the grass
Where the dew lies pearly,
They say “Good morrow” as they pass
By the leafy limes.

In the meadow—what in the meadow?
Bluebells, buttercups, meadowsweet,
And fairy rings for the children’s feet
In the meadow.

In the garden—what in the garden?
Jacob’s-ladder and Solomon’s-seal,
And Love-lies-bleeding beside All-heal
In the garden.

A frisky lamb
And a frisky child
Playing their pranks
In a cowslip meadow:
The sky all blue
And the air all mild
And the fields all sun
And the lanes half shadow.

Mix a pancake,
Stir a pancake,
Pop it in the pan;
Fry the pancake,
Toss the pancake,—
Catch it if you can.

The wind has such a rainy sound
Moaning through the town,
The sea has such a windy sound,—
Will the ships go down?

The apples in the orchard
Tumble from their tree.—
Oh, will the ships go down, go down,
In the windy sea?

Three little children
On the wide wide earth,
Motherless children—
Cared for from their birth
By tender angels.

Three little children
On the wide wide sea,
Motherless children—
Safe as safe can be
With guardian angels.

Fly away, fly away over the sea,
Sun-loving swallow, for summer is done;
Come again, come again, come back to me,
Bringing the summer and bringing the sun.

Minnie bakes oaten cakes,
Minnie brews ale,
All because her Johnny’s coming
Home from sea.
And she glows like a rose,
Who was so pale,
And “Are you sure the church clock goes?”
Says she.

A white hen sitting
On white eggs three:
Next, three speckled chickens
As plump as plump can be.

An owl, and a hawk,
And a bat come to see:
But chicks beneath their mother’s wing
Squat safe as safe can be.

Currants on a bush,
And figs upon a stem,
And cherries on a bending bough,
And Ned to gather them.

Playing at bob cherry
Tom and Nell and Hugh:
Cherry bob! cherry bob!
There’s a bob for you.

Tom bobs a cherry
For gaping snapping Hugh,
While curly-pated Nelly
Snaps at it too.

Look, look, look—
Oh what a sight to see!
The wind is playing cherry bob
With the cherry tree.

I have but one rose in the world,
And my one rose stands a-drooping:
Oh, when my single rose is dead
There’ll be but thorns for stooping.

Rosy maiden Winifred,
With a milkpail on her head,
Tripping through the corn,
While the dew lies on the wheat
In the sunny morn.
Scarlet shepherd’s-weatherglass
Spreads wide open at her feet
As they pass;
Cornflowers give their almond smell
While she brushes by,
And a lark sings from the sky
“All is well.”

Blind from my birth,
Where flowers are springing
I sit on earth
All dark.
Hark! hark!
A lark is singing,
His notes are all for me,
For me his mirth:—
Till some day I shall see
Beautiful flowers
And birds in bowers
Where all Joy Bells are ringing.

When the cows come home the milk is coming,
Honey’s made while the bees are humming;
Duck and drake on the rushy lake,
And the deer live safe in the breezy brake;
And timid, funny, brisk little bunny,
Winks his nose and sits all sunny.

Roses blushing red and white,
For delight;
Honeysuckle wreaths above,
For love;
Dim sweet-scented heliotrope,
For hope;
Shining lilies tall and straight,
For royal state;
Dusky pansies, let them be
For memory;
With violets of fragrant breath,
For death.

“Ding a ding,”
The sweet bells sing,
And say:
“Come, all be gay”
For a wedding day.

“Dong a dong,”
The bells sigh long,
And call:
“Weep one, weep all”
For a funeral.

A ring upon her finger,
Walks the bride,
With the bridegroom tall and handsome
At her side.

A veil upon her forehead,
Walks the bride,
With the bridegroom proud and merry
At her side.

Fling flowers beneath the footsteps
Of the bride;
Fling flowers before the bridegroom
At her side.

“Ferry me across the water,
Do, boatman, do.”
“If you’ve a penny in your purse
I’ll ferry you.”

“I have a penny in my purse,
And my eyes are blue;
So ferry me across the water,
Do, boatman, do.”

“Step into my ferry-boat,
Be they black or blue,
And for the penny in your purse
I’ll ferry you.”

When a mounting skylark sings
In the sunlit summer morn,
I know that heaven is up on high.
And on earth are fields of corn.

But when a nightingale sings
In the moonlit summer even,
I know not if earth is merely earth.
Only that heaven is heaven.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling
The wind is passing thro’.

Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads
The wind is passing by.

The horses of the sea
Rear a foaming crest,
But the horses of the land
Serve us the best.

The horses of the land
Munch corn and clover,
While the foaming sea-horses
Toss and turn over.

O sailor, come ashore,
What have you brought for me?
Red coral, white coral,
Coral from the sea.

I did not dig it from the ground,
Nor pluck it from a tree;
Feeble insects made it
In the stormy sea.

A diamond or a coal?
A diamond, if you please:
Who cares about a clumsy coal
Beneath the summer trees?

A diamond or a coal?
A coal, sir, if you please:
One comes to care about the coal
What time the waters freeze.

An emerald is as green as grass;
A ruby red as blood;
A sapphire shines as blue as heaven;
A flint lies in the mud.

A diamond is a brilliant stone,
To catch the world’s desire;
An opal holds a fiery spark;
But a flint holds fire.

Boats sail on the rivers,
And ships sail on the seas;
But clouds that sail across the sky
Are prettier far than these.

There are bridges on the rivers,
As pretty as you please;
But the bow that bridges heaven,
And overtops the trees,
And builds a road from earth to sky,
Is prettier far than these.

The lily has a smooth stalk,
Will never hurt your hand;
But the rose upon her briar
Is lady of the land.

There’s sweetness in an apple tree,
And profit in the corn;
But lady of all beauty
Is a rose upon a thorn.

When with moss and honey
She tips her bending briar,
And half unfolds her glowing heart,
She sets the world on fire.

Hurt no living thing:
Ladybird, nor butterfly,
Nor moth with dusty wing,
Nor cricket chirping cheerily,
Nor grasshopper so light of leap,
Nor dancing gnat, nor beetle fat,
Nor harmless worms that creep.

I caught a little ladybird
That flies far away;
I caught a little lady wife
That is both staid and gay.

Come back, my scarlet ladybird,
Back from far away;
I weary of my dolly wife,
My wife that cannot play.

She’s such a senseless wooden thing
She stares the livelong day;
Her wig of gold is stiff and cold
And cannot change to grey.

All the bells were ringing
And all the birds were singing,
When Molly sat down crying
For her broken doll:
O you silly Moll!
Sobbing and sighing
For a broken doll,
When all the bells are ringing,
And all the birds are singing.

Wee wee husband,
Give me some money,
I have no comfits,
And I have no honey.

Wee wee wifie,
I have no money,
Milk, nor meat, nor bread to eat,
Comfits, nor honey.

I have a little husband
And he is gone to sea,
The winds that whistle round his ship
Fly home to me.

The winds that sigh about me
Return again to him;
So I would fly, if only I
Were light of limb.

The dear old woman in the lane
Is sick and sore with pains and aches,
We’ll go to her this afternoon,
And take her tea and eggs and cakes.

We’ll stop to make the kettle boil,
And brew some tea, and set the tray,
And poach an egg, and toast a cake,
And wheel her chair round, if we may.

Swift and sure the swallow,
Slow and sure the snail:
Slow and sure may miss his way,
Swift and sure may fail.

“I dreamt I caught a little owl
And the bird was blue—”

“But you may hunt for ever
And not find such an one.”

“I dreamt I set a sunflower,
And red as blood it grew—”

“But such a sunflower never
Bloomed beneath the sun.”

What does the bee do?
Bring home honey.
And what does Father do?
Bring home money.
And what does Mother do?
Lay out the money.
And what does baby do?
Eat up the honey.

I have a Poll parrot,
And Poll is my doll,
And my nurse is Polly,
And my sister Poll.

“Polly!” cried Polly,
“Don’t tear Polly dolly”—
While soft-hearted Poll
Trembled for the doll.

A house of cards
Is neat and small
Shake the table,
It must fall.

Find the Court cards
One by one;
Raise it, roof it,—
Now it’s done:—
Shake the table!
That’s the fun.

The rose with such a bonny blush,
What has the rose to blush about?
If it’s the sun that makes her flush,
What’s in the sun to flush about?

The rose that blushes rosy red,
She must hang her head;
The lily that blows spotless white,
She may stand upright.

Oh, fair to see
Bloom-laden cherry tree,
Arrayed in sunny white;
An April day’s delight,
Oh, fair to see!

Oh, fair to see
Fruit-laden cherry tree,
With balls of shining red
Decking a leafy head,
Oh, fair to see!

Clever little Willie wee,
Bright-eyed, blue-eyed little fellow;
Merry little Margery
With her hair all yellow.

Little Willie in his heart
Is a sailor on the sea,
And he often cons a chart
With sister Margery.

The peach tree on the southern wall
Has basked so long beneath the sun,
Her score of peaches great and small
Bloom rosy, every one.

A peach for brothers, one for each,
A peach for you and a peach for me;
But the biggest, rosiest, downiest peach
For Grandmamma with her tea.

A rose has thorns as well as honey,
I’ll not have her for love or money;
An iris grows so straight and fine,
That she shall be no friend of mine;
Snowdrops like the snow would chill me;
Nightshade would caress and kill me;
Crocus like a spear would fright me;
Dragon’s-mouth might bark or bite me;
Convolvulus but blooms to die;
A wind-flower suggests a sigh
Love-lies-bleeding makes me sad;
And poppy-juice would drive me mad
But give me holly, bold and jolly,
Honest, prickly, shining holly;
Pluck me holly leaf and berry
For the day when I make merry.

Is the moon tired? she looks so pale
Within her misty veil:
She scales the sky from east to west,
And takes no rest.

Before the coming of the night
The moon shows papery white;
Before the dawning of the day
She fades away.

If stars dropped out of heaven,
And if flowers took their place,
The sky would still look very fair,
And fair earth’s face.

Winged angels might fly down to us
To pluck the stars,
But we could only long for flowers
Beyond the cloudy bars.

“Goodbye in fear, goodbye in sorrow,
Goodbye, and all in vain,
Never to meet again, my dear—”
“Never to part again.”
“Goodbye to-day, goodbye to-morrow,
Goodbye till earth shall wane,
Never to meet again, my dear—”
“Never to part again.”

If the sun could tell us half
That he hears and sees,
Sometimes he would make us laugh,
Sometimes make us cry:
Think of all the birds that make
Homes among the trees;
Think of cruel boys who take
Birds that cannot fly.

If the moon came from heaven,
Talking all the way,
What could she have to tell us,
And what could she say?

“I’ve seen a hundred pretty things,
And seen a hundred gay
But only think: I peep by night
And do not peep by day!”

O Lady Moon, your horns point toward the east:
Shine, be increased;
O Lady Moon, your horns point toward the west:
Wane, be at rest.

What do the stars do
Up in the sky,
Higher than the wind can blow,
Or the clouds can fly?

Each star in its own glory
Circles, circles still;
As it was lit to shine and set,
And do its Maker’s will.

Motherless baby and babyless mother,
Bring them together to love one another.

Crimson curtains round my mother’s bed,
Silken soft as may be;
Cool white curtains round about my bed,
For I am but a baby.

Baby lies so fast asleep
That we cannot wake her:
Will the Angels clad in white
Fly from heaven to take her?

Baby lies so fast asleep
That no pain can grieve her
Put a snowdrop in her hand,
Kiss her once and leave her.

I know a baby, such a baby,—
Round blue eyes and cheeks of pink,
Such an elbow furrowed with dimples,
Such a wrist where creases sink.

“Cuddle and love me, cuddle and love me,”
Crows the mouth of coral pink:
Oh, the bald head, and, oh, the sweet lips,
And, oh, the sleepy eyes that wink!

Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Flowers are closed and lambs are sleeping;
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!
Stars are up, the moon is peeping;
Lullaby, oh, lullaby
While the birds are silence keeping,
(Lullaby, oh, lullaby!)
Sleep, my baby, fall a-sleeping,
Lullaby, oh, lullaby!

Lie a-bed,
Sleepy head,
Shut up eyes, bo-peep;
Till daybreak
Never wake:—
Baby, sleep.