Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/36



USH, bonnie, dinna greit;

Moder will rocke her sweete,—

Balow, my boy!

When that his toile ben done,

Daddie will come anone,—

Hush thee, my lyttel one;

Balow, my boy!

Gin thou dost sleepe, perchaunce

Fayries will come to daunce,—

Balow, my boy!

Oft hath thy moder seene

Moonlight and mirkland queene

Daunce on thy slumbering een,—

Balow, my boy!

Then droned a bomblebee

Saftly this songe to thee:

"Balow, my boy!"

And a wee heather bell,

Pluckt from a fayry dell,

Chimed thee this rune hersell:

"Balow, my boy!"