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A little book of tribune verse

A number of hitherto uncollected poems, grave and gay

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HUSH-A-BY BABY.
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
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50

HUSH-A-BY BABY.

Hush-a-by baby; as the birds fly,
We are off to the island of Lullaby;
I am the Captain, you are the crew,
And the cradle, I guess, is our birch bark canoe;
We'll drift away from the work-day shore
For a thousand long leagues or more,
Till we reach the strand where happy dreams wait,
Whether we're early or whether we're late.
Hush-a-by, baby; as the birds fly
Let us make the snug harbor of Lullaby.
Some little folks are far on the way;
Some have put in at Wide-awake Bay;
Others, I fear, are long overdue;
Don't let this happen, my darling, to you;
Let us steer for the coast where happy dreams wait,
Whether we're early or whether we're late.
November 13th, 1881.