Читать книгу In My Nursery - Richards Laura Elizabeth Howe, Laura Richards - Страница 5

My own little beautiful Baby,

You're weeping most bitterly, dear!

There'd soon be a lake, if we treasured

Each sweet little silvery tear.

A lake? Nay! an ocean of sorrow

Would murmur and sigh at your feet,

And you would be drowned in your tear-drops,

My own little Baby sweet.

But, darling, as in the wide ocean

The divers plunge boldly down,

And bring up the radiant pearl-drops

To set in some royal crown,

E'en so from the sea of your sorrow,

This dolorous "fountain of youth,"

Will come, ere a week be over,

A little wee pearly tooth.

And then the tears will all vanish,

Dried up by the sunshine of smiles;

And we'll have back our own little Alice,

With her merriest frolics and wiles.

And whenever you laugh, my Baby,

Through all your life's happy years,

You'll show us the radiant pearl-drop

That you brought from the ocean of tears.