THE  Maple  strews  the  embers  of  its  leaves
O'er  the  laggard  swallows  nestled  'neath  the  eaves;
And  the  moody  cricket  falters  in  his  cry — Baby-bye ! —
And  the  lid  of  night  is  falling  o'er  the  sky — Baby-bye! —
The  lid  of  night  is  falling  o'er  the  sky !

The  rose  is  lying  pallid,  and  the  cup
Of  the  frosted  calla-lily  folded  up;

And  the  breezes  through  the  garden  sob  and  sigh — Baby-bye  !-

O'er  the  sleeping  blooms  of  summer  where  they  lie — Baby-bye  !-

O'er  the  sleeping  blooms  of  summer  where  they  lie !

Yet,  Baby — O  my  Baby,  for  your  sake
This  heart  of  mine  is  ever  wide  awake,
And  my  love  may  never  droop  a  drowsy  eye — Baby-bye ! —
Till  your  own  are  wet  above  me  when  I   die — Baby-bye ! —
Till  your  own  are  wet  above  me  when  I  die.
LITTLE  JOHNTS'S  CHRISM  US.
LITTLE  JOHNTS'S  CHRISMUS.
WE  got  it  up  a-purpose,  jes'  fer  little  Johnts,   you  know;
His  mother  was  so  pore  an'  all,  an'  had  to  manage  so —
Jes'  bein'  a  War-widder,  an'  her  pension  mighty  slim,  \
She'd  take  in  weavin',  er  work  out,  er  anything  fer  him!


An'  little  Johnts  was  puny-like — but  law,  the  nerve  he  had ! —
You'd  want  to  kindo'  pity  him,  but  couldn't  very  bad —
His  pants  o'  army-blanket  an'  his  coat  o'  faded  blue
Kep'  hintin'  of  his  father  like,  an'  pity  wouldn't  do !

So  we  collogued  together,  onc't,  one  wintertime,  'at  we —
Jes'  me  an'  Mother   an'   the  girls,  an'  Wilse,  John-Jack  an'

Free—
Would    jine  an'   git   up  little  Johnts,  by  time  'at   Chrismus

come,
Some  sorto'  doin's,  don't  you  know,   'at  would  su'prise    him

some.
