she held out her hands for the lilies,

her blue eyes so eager and bright,

and holding them close to her bosom,

she murmured her soft toned “dood night.”

“ah! baby, my own little darling,

though the lilies be never so fair,

the gold at their hearts is no brighter

than the glinting strands of your hair.”

as you in my arms slumber lightly,

your bright lashes kiss your fair cheek,

i pray the kind god to keep safely

my own little blossom so meek.

then laying her safe in her cradle,

the lilies clasped close to her breast,

and kissing her dewy lips softly,

i leave her alone to her rest.

the breath of the flowers is no sweeter

than the breath of my babe i ween,

the petals no whiter or purer

than the soul of my wee heart’s queen.

south boston, mass.