William P. M’Kenzie
Moonlight
SO tremulous the flame of thinking burns
Beneath mine eyelids, that I may not keep
My restless couch; I watch the still moon sweep
Through starry space, like some white soul that spurns
Earth-life, and to the sunlight ever turns;
In her cool beams my burning eyes I steep—
Oh, that my spirit thus may rest in sleep
When my pale ashes mother Earth inurns!
And as the moonlight quieteth unrest,
Changing thought’s scorching glow to truth’s pure light,
So Thou, who art my heart’s most holy guest,
Dost make its ruddy flame glow spirit white;
And like pure-hearted child ’mid happy dreams,
I rest my heart and soul in Thy love-beams.
Gabrielle
’TIS the sound of a silver-toned bell:
Gabrielle,—
And a gladness the chime doth foretell,
Gabrielle;
As music that thrilled once floats back to the mind,
And tells of a joy yet to grasp, yet to find,
So thy name seems to come on the wind,
Gabrielle!
I find in its musical swell,
Gabrielle,
A charm evil passions to quell,
Gabrielle;
When I utter thy name all the might is destroyed
Of the glittering shapes in the dark that annoyed,
And they flit back again to the void,
Gabrielle!
Thy name holds my heart by a spell,
Gabrielle!
In my life thy sweet music shall dwell,
Gabrielle!
As one with a vision celestial in sight,
The vision of love hath redoubled my might,
And my eyes mirror heavenly light,
Gabrielle!
The Mother’s Song
Come, O Sleep, from Chio’s isle,
Take my little one awhile.—Greek Folk-Song.
COME hither, Sleep, from Chio’s isle!
My wakeful babe canst thou beguile?
Let rose of dawn be on the cheek,
On sweet lips parted as to speak,
But bring a twilight o’er these eyes
As bright and blue as summer skies.
Then swing the cradle to and fro
Till all the wingëd shadows go;
Like drowsy flower my baby sway
Until my daughter hails the day.
Come hither, Sleep, from Chio’s isle!
Take thou my little one awhile,
And twine soft fabric of the night
O’er merry eyes that glance too bright;
Make silent thou the laughter sound,
But leave the smile, and dimple round,
And rock my baby on thy breast
Like wee bird swaying in the nest;
At morning bring her fresh as day,
Then on a sunbeam fly away.
Lullaby Song
WHERE does my sweetheart Baby go
While the cradle is swinging her to and fro,—
While Mother is singing a lullaby
In a voice like none other, so sweet and low?
Lullaby Baby, lullaby dear!
Yield thee to slumber, Mother is near;
Far on Sleep’s ocean fear not to go,
God is around thee, loving thee so!
Does she fly away to the home of Night,
When eyelids droop over blue eyes bright?
Does she seek the place where the dreams are born,
Clad in her dreaming-dress of white?
Her cradle sways like a fairy boat
On the gentle Slumber river afloat,
That bears on its bosom a baby fleet,
As the sunbeam many a shining mote.
So swiftly the babies are sweeping along
As if a breeze in the sail blew strong,
Yet no waves beat, for it is not the wind
But the crooning of many a mother-song.
Down Slumber river their course they keep,
Until they come to the sea of Sleep;
And the mermaids tell them of wonderful things,
For they are the dreams that arise from the deep.