THE FAIRY’S NAME WAS WHISPER

The fairy’s name was Whisper, and she flew around at night; She filled the lamps of evening, and she set the grasses right; She waked a lazy glow-worm, where the mossy wood-spring drips, And hushed the noisy froggies, with her finger on her lips. “It’s time to sleep! It’s time to sleep!” she told the forest birds; She soothed the hurried river, with a chant of magic words; And, finding Billy Beaver, who had planned to work at night, She sent him off to bed at once, by winking fire-fly light. The fairy’s name was Whisper; and this I know is true; And when she’d hung the mists out, there were other things to do; She caught her robes about her, and she flew from door to door, To set the babies sleeping, in a hundred homes or more. And here’s a little baby, who would like to stay awake, For happy lights are riding, in the boats upon the lake; And here a baby cuddles,—and here a baby cries,— And Whisper finds the newest one, and shuts her tiny eyes. And do the mothers see her? O never; not at all; The kitten doesn’t see her, nor the clock upon the wall; But all the nodding babies, who lie, or walk, or creep; Know, “Whisper’s come to see us;” and then—they’re—off—to—sleep.