The friendly cow all red and white,
  I love with all my heart;
She gives me cream with all her might,
  To eat with apple-tart.

She wanders lowing here and there,
  And yet she cannot stray,
All in the pleasant open air,
  The pleasant light of day;

And blown by all the winds that pass
  And wet with all the showers. 
She walks among the meadow grass
  And eats the meadow flowers.

GOOD-NIGHT AND GOOD-MORNING.

A fair little girl sat under a tree,
Sewing as long as her eyes could see;
Then smoothed her work and folded it right
And said, “Dear work, good-night, good-night!”

Such a number of rooks came over her head,
Crying “Caw!  Caw!” on their way to bed,
She said, as she watched their curious flight,
“Little black things, good-night, good-night!”

The horses neighed, and the oxen lowed,
The sheep’s “Bleat!  Bleat!” came over the road;
All seeming to say, with a quiet delight,
“Good little girl, good-night, good-night!”

She did not say to the sun, “Good-night!”
Though she saw him there like a ball of light;
For she knew he had God’s time to keep
All over the world and never could sleep.

The tall pink foxglove bowed his head;
The violets curtsied, and went to bed;
And good little Lucy tied up her hair,
And said, on her knees, her favorite prayer.

And while on her pillow she softly lay,
She knew nothing more till again it was day;
And all things said to the beautiful sun,
“Good-morning, good-morning! our work is begun.”

MOTHER’S EYES.

What are the songs the mother sings? 
Of birds and flowers and pretty things;
Baby lies in her arms and spies
All his world in the mother’s eyes.

What are the tales the mother tells? 
Of gems and jewels and silver bells;
Baby lies in her arms and spies
All his wealth in the mother’s eyes.

What are the thoughts in the mother’s mind? 
Of the gentle Saviour, loving and kind;
Baby lies in her arms and spies
All his heaven in the mother’s eyes.

THE LAND OF NOD.

From breakfast on through all the day
At home among my friends I stay,
But every night I go abroad
Afar into the land of Nod.

All by myself I have to go,
With, none to tell me what to do—­
All alone beside the streams
And up the mountain sides of dreams.

The strangest things are there for me,
Both things to eat and things to see,
And many frightening sights abroad,
Till morning in the land of Nod.

Try as I like to find the way,
I never can get back by day,
Nor can remember plain and clear
The curious music that I hear.