Page:Poems for Children Sigourney 1836.pdf/67

 So one, morn, She wrapt him safely in a cradle-ark, And with a hurried foot-step laid him down Among the rushes by the river's brink. —Strangely the wild eye of the wondering babe, Gaz'd on her from the water,—and his arms Stretch'd from their reedy prison, sought in vain To twine about her neck. She turn'd away, Breathing that prayer, which none but mothers breathe For their endanger'd babes. It was the Nile, On which she laid her son, in his slight ark Of woven rushes. She remember'd well, The gaunt and wily crocodile, that loves To haunt those slimy waters. But she knew That He who made the crocodile could stay His ravenous jaws. So, in his mighty arm She put her trust. Close by the river's brink, Her little mournful daughter staid to see What would befal her brother, and her voice Did sweetly struggle with her grief, to sing The hymn that sooth'd the child.