By The Cradle.
Close her eyes: she must not peep! Let her little puds go slack; Slide away far into sleep: Sis will watch till she comes back! Mother's knitting at the door, Waiting till the kettle sings; When the kettle's song is o'er She will set the bright tea-things. Father's busy making hay In the meadow by the brook, Not so very far away-- Close its peeps, it needn't look! God is round us everywhere-- Sees the scythe glitter and rip; Watches baby gone somewhere; Sees how mother's fingers skip! Sleep, dear baby; sleep outright: Mother's sitting just behind: Father's only out of sight; God is round us like the wind.
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"Close her eyes: she must not peep!..."
"By The Cradle." is a quintessential example of George MacDonald's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...