THE CHIMNEY-SWEEPER

 When my mother died I was very young,
 And my father sold me while yet my tongue
 Could scarcely cry "Weep! weep! weep! weep!"
 So your chimneys I sweep, and in soot I sleep.

 There's little Tom Dacre, who cried when his head,
 That curled like a lamb's back, was shaved; so I said,
 "Hush, Tom! never mind it, for, when your head's bare,
 You know that the soot cannot spoil your white hair."

 And so he was quiet, and that very night,
 As Tom was a-sleeping, he had such a sight! --
 That thousands of sweepers, Dick, Joe, Ned, and Jack,
 Were all of them locked up in coffins of black.

 And by came an angel, who had a bright key,
 And he opened the coffins, and let them all free;
 Then down a green plain, leaping, laughing, they run,
 And wash in a river, and shine in the sun.

 Then naked and white, all their bags left behind,
 They rise upon clouds, and sport in the wind;
 And the Angel told Tom, if he'd be a good boy,
 He'd have God for his father, and never want joy.

 And so Tom awoke, and we rose in the dark,
 And got with our bags and our brushes to work.
 Though the morning was cold, Tom was happy and warm:
 So, if all do their duty, they need not fear harm.

 THE LITTLE BOY LOST

 "Father, father, where are you going?
   Oh do not walk so fast!
 Speak, father, speak to you little boy,
   Or else I shall be lost."

 The night was dark, no father was there,
   The child was wet with dew;
 The mire was deep, and the child did weep,
   And away the vapour flew.

 THE LITTLE BOY FOUND

 The little boy lost in the lonely fen,
   Led by the wandering light,
 Began to cry, but God, ever nigh,
   Appeared like his father, in white.

 He kissed the child, and by the hand led,
   And to his mother brought,
 Who in sorrow pale, through the lonely dale,
   The little boy weeping sought.

 LAUGHING SONG

 When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
 And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
 When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
 And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;

 when the meadows laugh with lively green,
 And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene,
 When Mary and Susan and Emily
 With their sweet round mouths sing "Ha, ha he!"

 When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
 Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread:
 Come live, and be merry, and join with me,
 To sing the sweet chorus of "Ha, ha, he!"

 A  SONG

 Sweet dreams, form a shade
 O'er my lovely infant's head!
 Sweet dreams of pleasant streams
 By happy, silent, moony beams!

 Sweet Sleep, with soft down
 Weave thy brows an infant crown
 Sweet Sleep, angel mild,
 Hover o'er my happy child!

 Sweet smiles, in the night
 Hover over my delight!
 Sweet smiles, mother's smile,
 All the livelong night beguile.

 Sweet moans, dovelike sighs,
 Chase not slumber from thine eyes!
 Sweet moan, sweeter smile,
 All the dovelike moans beguile.

 Sleep, sleep, happy child!
 All creation slept and smiled.
 Sleep, sleep, happy sleep,
 While o'er thee doth mother weep.

 Sweet babe, in thy face
 Holy image I can trace;
 Sweet babe, once like thee
 Thy Maker lay, and wept for me:

 Wept for me, for thee, for all,
 When He was an infant small.
 Thou His image ever see,
 Heavenly face that smiles on thee!

 Smiles on thee, on me, on all,
 Who became an infant small;
 Infant smiles are his own smiles;
 Heaven and earth to peace beguiles.