An Abum of Twelve Hush Songs

I'll put you myself
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Sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings, —
Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes;
Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging —
Swinging the nest where her little one lies.

Away out yonder I see a star, —
Silvery star with a tinkling song;
To the soft dew falling I hear it calling —
Calling and tinkling the night along.

In through the window a moonbeam comes, —
Little gold moonbeam with misty wings;
[All]1 silently creeping, it asks, "Is he sleeping —
Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings?"

Up from the sea there floats the sob
Of the waves that are breaking upon the shore,
As though they were groaning in anguish, and moaning —
Bemoaning the ship that shall come no more.

But sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings, —
Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes;
Am I not singing? — see, I am swinging —
Swinging the nest where my darling lies.

Wynken, Blynken and Nod one night
  Sailed off in a wooden shoe --
Sailed on a river of crystal light
  Into a sea of dew.
"Where are you going and what do you wish?"
  The old moon asked the three.
"We have come to fish for the herring fish
  That live in this beautiful sea;
  Nets of silver and gold have we!"
    Said Wynken,
    Blynken,
    And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
  As they rocked in the wooden shoe,
And the wind that sped them all night long
  Ruffled the waves of dew.
The little stars were the herring fish
  That lived in that beautiful sea --
"Now cast your nets wherever you wish --
  Never afeard are we!"
  So cried the stars to the fishermen three:
    Wynken,
    Blynken,
    and Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
  To the stars in the twinkling foam.
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
  Bringing the fishermen home.
'Twas all so pretty a sail it seemed
  As if it could not be
And some folks thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed
  Of sailing that beautiful sea --
  But I shall name you the fishermen three:
    Wynken,
    Blynken,
    and Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
  And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
  Is a wee one's trundle bed.
So shut your eyes while mother sings
  Of wonderful [sights]1 that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
  As you rock in the misty sea,
  Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three:
    Wynken,
    Blynken,
    and Nod.

Oh, listen, little dear-my-soul
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My harp is on the willow tree
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So fair, so dear, so warm upon my bosom
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Oh! wand'ring wind
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Toss a brown baby
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Oh! who is this that softly lies
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Ho, prettty bee
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Sleep, my little baby
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Ba loo! my bonnie lammie
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