THE ROAD TO SLUMBERLAND WYNKEN, BLYNKEN, AND NOD DUTCH LULLABY 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 Nets of silver and gold have we!" Blynken, And Nod. The old moon laughed and sang a song, As they rocked in the wooden shoe; 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,— So cried the stars to the fishermen three, 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: 65 The Road to Slumberland 'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed As if it could not be; And some folk 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 the wooden shoe that sailed the skies So shut your eyes while Mother sings And you shall see the beautiful things As you rock in the misty sea Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three: Wynken, Blynken, Eugene Field [1850-1895] THE ROAD TO SLUMBERLAND WHAT is the road to slumber-land and when does the baby go? The road lies straight through mother's arms when the sun is sinking low. He goes by the drowsy land of nod to the music of lullaby, When all wee lambs are safe in the fold, under the evening sky. A soft little nightgown clean and white; a face washed sweet and fair; A mother brushing the tangles out of the silken, golden hair. Two little tired, satiny feet, from shoe and stocking free; Two little palms together clasped at the mother's patient knee. Some baby words that are drowsily lisped to the tender Shepherd's ear; And a kiss that only a mother can place on the brow of her baby dear. A little round head that nestles at last close to the mother's breast, And then the lullaby soft and low, singing the song of rest. And closer and closer the blue-veined lids are hiding the baby eyes, As over the road to slumber-land the dear little traveller hies. For this is the way, through mother's arms, all little babies go To the beautiful city of slumber-land when the sun is sinking low. Mary Dow Brine [18 WHEN THE SLEEPY MAN COMES WHEN the Sleepy Man comes with the dust on his eyes, (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) He shuts up the earth, and he opens the skies. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!) He smiles through his fingers, and shuts up the sun; (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) The stars that he loves he lets out one by one. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!) He comes from the castles of Drowsy-boy Town; (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) At the touch of his hand the tired eyelids fall down. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!) He comes with a murmur of dream in his wings; (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) And whispers of mermaids and wonderful things. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!) Auld Daddy Darkness Then the top is a burden, the bugle a bane; (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) When one would be faring down Dream-a-way Lane. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!) When one would be wending in Lullaby Wherry, (Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!) To Sleepy Man's Castle, by Comforting Ferry. (So hush-a-by, weary my Dearie!) Charles G. D. Roberts [1860 67 AULD DADDY DARKNESS AULD Daddy Darkness creeps frae his hole, See him in the corners hidin' frae the licht, Awa' to hide the birdie within its cosy nest, He comes when we're weary to wean's frae oor waes, Steek yer een, my wee tot, ye'll see Daddy then; WILLIE WINKIE WEE Willie Winkie rins through the town, Upstairs and doon stairs, in his nicht-gown, "Are the weans in their bed?-for it's noo ten o'clock." Hey, Willie Winkie! are ye comin' ben? The cat's singin' gay thrums to the sleepin' hen, The doug's speldered on the floor, and disna gie a cheep; But here's a waukrife laddie, that winna fa' asleep. Onything but sleep, ye rogue!-glowrin' like the moon, Rumblin', tumblin' roun' about, crawin' like a cock, Hey, Willie Winkie! the wean's in a creel! Ruggin' at the cat's lug, and ravellin' a' her thrums: Hey, Willie Winkie!-See, there he comes! William Miller [1810-1872] THE SANDMAN THE rosy clouds float overhead, The sun is going down; And now the sandman's gentle tread Comes stealing through the town. His gift of shining sand. Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes, and brown, As shuts the rose, they softly close, when he goes through the town. From sunny beaches far away Yes, in another land He gathers up at break of day His store of shining sand. |