Читать книгу Graded Memory Selections - Various - Страница 21

Over the cradle the mother hung,

Softly crooning a slumber song:

And these were the simple words she sung

All the evening long.

“Cheek or chin, or knuckle or knee

Where shall the baby’s dimple be?

Where shall the angel’s finger rest

When he comes down to the baby’s nest?

Where shall the angel’s touch remain

When he awakens my babe again?”

Still as she bent and sang so low,

A murmur into her music broke:

And she paused to hear, for she could but know

The baby’s angel spoke.

“Cheek or chin, or knuckle or knee,

Where shall the baby’s dimple be?

Where shall my finger fall and rest

When I come down to the baby’s nest?

Where shall my finger touch remain

When I awaken your babe again?”

Silent the mother sat and dwelt

Long in the sweet delay of choice,

And then by her baby’s side she knelt,

And sang with a pleasant voice:

“Not on the limb, O angel dear!

For the charm with its youth will disappear;

Not on the cheek shall the dimple be,

For the harboring smile will fade and flee;

But touch thou the chin with an impress deep,

And my baby the angel’s seal shall keep.”