Child and mother
O mother-my-love, if you'll give me your hand,And go where I ask you to wander,I will lead you away to a beautiful land,--The Dreamland that's waiting out yonder.We'll walk in a sweet posie-garden out there,Where moonlight and starlight are streaming,And the flowers and the birds are filling the airWith the fragrance and music of dreaming.
There'll be no little tired-out boy to undress,No questions or cares to perplex you,There'll be no little bruises or bumps to caress,Nor patching of stockings to vex you;For I'll rock you away on a silver-dew streamAnd sing you asleep when you're weary,And no one shall know of our beautiful dreamBut you and your own little dearie.
And when I am tired I'll nestle my headIn the bosom that's soothed me so often,And the wide-awake stars shall sing, in my stead,A song which our dreaming shall soften.So, Mother-my-Love, let me take your dear hand,And away through the starlight we'll wander,--Away through the mist to the beautiful land,--The Dreamland that's waiting out yonder.
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