Front matter

Sweet! when first my baby ear Curled itself and learned to hear, 'Twas your silver-singing voice Made my baby heart rejoice. Hushed upon your tender breast, Soft you sang me to my rest; Waking, when I sought my play, Still your singing led the way. Cradle songs, more soft and low Than the bird croons on the bough; Olden ballads, grave and gay, Warrior's chant, and lover's lay. So my baby hours went In a cadence of content, To the music and the rhyme Keeping tune and keeping time. So you taught me, too, ere long, All our life should be a song,— Should a faltering prelude be To the heavenly harmony; And with gracious words and high, Bade me look beyond the sky, To the Glory throned above, To th' eternal Light and Love. Many years have blossomed by: Far and far from childhood I; Yet its sunrays on me fall, Here among my children all. So among my babes I go, Singing high and singing low; Striving for the silver tone Which my memory holds alone. If I chant my little lays Tunefully, be yours the praise; If I fail, 'tis I must rue Not t' have closelier followed you.