“Wynken, Blynken, and Nod”

“Wynken, Blynken, and Nod”
~Eugene Field

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Wynken, Blynken, and Nod one night
Sailed off in a wooden shoe,–
Sailed on a river of crystal light
Into a sea of dew.
“Where are you going, and what do you wish?”
The old moon asked the three.
“We have come to fish for the herring-fish
That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we,”
Said Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sang a song,
As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long
Ruffled the waves of dew;
The little stars were the herring-fish
That lived in the beautiful sea.
“Now cast your nets wherever you wish,–
Never afeard are we!”
So cried the stars to the fishermen three,
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw
To the stars in the twinkling foam,–
Then down from the skies came the wooden shoe,
Bringing the fishermen home:
‘Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed
As if it could not be;
And some folk thought ’twas a dream they’d dreamed
Of sailing that beautiful sea;
But I shall name you the fishermen three:
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,
And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies
Is a wee one’s trundle-bed;
So shut your eyes while Mother sings
Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things
As you rock on the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three,
Wynken,
Blynken,
And Nod.

“Wee Willie Winkie”

“Wee Willie Winkie”
~William Miller

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Wee Willie Winkie rins through the town,
Up-stairs and doon-stairs, in his nicht-gown,
Tirlin’ at the window, cryin’ at the lock,
“Are the weans in their bed?–for it’s now ten o’clock.”

Hey, Willie Winkie! are ye comin’ ben?
The cat’s singin’ gay thrums to the sleepin’ hen,
The doug’s speldered on the floor, and disna gie a cheep;
But here’s a waukrife laddie that winna fa’ asleep.

Onything but sleep, ye rogue! glow’rin’ like the moon,
Rattlin’ in an airn jug wi’ an airn spoon,
Rumblin’ tumblin’ roun’ about, crowin’ like a cock,
Skirlin’ like a kenna-what–wauknin’ sleepin’ folk.

Hey, Willie Winkie! the wean’s in a creel!
Waumblin’ aff a body’s knee like a vera eel,
Ruggin’ at the cat’s lug, and ravellin’ a’ her thrums,–
Hey, Willie Winkie!–See, there he comes!

Wearie is the mither that has a storie wean,
A wee stumpie stoussie that canna rin his lane,
That has a battle aye wi’ sleep before he’ll close an ee;
But a kiss frae aff his rosy lips gies strength anew to me.

“Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star!”

“Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star!”
Samuel T. Coleridge

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Twinkle, twinkle, little star!
How I wonder what you are,
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

When the glorious sun is set,
When the grass with dew is wet,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle all the night.

In the dark-blue sky you keep,
And often through my curtains peep,
For you never shut your eye,
Till the sun is in the sky.

As your bright and tiny spark
Guides the traveller in the dark,
Though I know not what you are,
Twinkle, twinkle, little star!

“Night”

“Night”
William Blake

    The sun descending in the west,
    The evening star does shine;
    The birds are silent in their nest,
    And I must seek for mine.
    The moon, like a flower
    In heaven’s high bower,
    With silent delight,
    Sits and smiles on the night.

    Farewell, green fields and happy grove,
    Where flocks have ta’en delight.
    Where lambs have nibbled, silent move
    The feet of angels bright;
    Unseen they pour blessing,
    And joy without ceasing,
    On each bud and blossom,
    And each sleeping bosom.

    They look in every thoughtless nest
    Where birds are covered warm;
    They visit caves of every beast,
    To keep them all from harm:
    If they see any weeping
    That should have been sleeping,
    They pour sleep on their head,
    And sit down by their bed.

    When wolves and tigers howl for prey,
    They pitying stand and weep;
    Seeking to drive their thirst away,
    And keep them from the sheep.
    But, if they rush dreadful,
    The angels, most heedful,
    Receive each mild spirit,
    New worlds to inherit.

    And there the lion’s ruddy eyes
    Shall flow with tears of gold:
    And pitying the tender cries,
    And walking round the fold:
    Saying: “Wrath by His meekness,
    And, by His health, sickness,
    Are driven away
    From our immortal day.

    “And now beside thee, bleating lamb,
    I can lie down and sleep,
    Or think on Him who bore thy name,
    Graze after thee, and weep.
    For, washed in life’s river,
    My bright mane for ever
    Shall shine like the gold,
    As I guard o’er the fold.”

“A Cradle Song”

“A Cradle Song”
William Blake

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
    Dreaming in the joys of night;
    Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
    Little sorrows sit and weep.

    Sweet babe, in thy face
    Soft desires I can trace,
    Secret joys and secret smiles,
    Little pretty infant wiles.

    As thy softest limbs I feel,
    Smiles as of the morning steal
    O’er thy cheek, and o’er thy breast
    Where thy little heart doth rest.

    O the cunning wiles that creep
    In thy little heart asleep!
    When thy little heart doth wake,
    Then the dreadful light shall break.