Poems for Children Sigourney/Dialogue in the fields between a Mother and little Child

by Lydia Sigourney

Dialogue in the fields, between a Mother and little Child.

Come forth,—come forth, 'tis the time of joy,
Bright summer is out, in the vales, my boy,
Through its lillied bed, see the clear brook glide,
And the white lamb sport by its mother's side,
See the butterfly spread out a golden wing,
And the bees to the honey blossoms sing,
And the grasshopper leap 'mid the new-mown hay.
So we, my child, will be happy as they.

                        Sweet words
                        Speak the birds
                            From the tree;

                        Mother! teach
                        Their speech
                            Unto me.

Of love they sing when they build their nest,
Of love when they soar o'er the mountain's breast.
Or nurture their young in their green retreat,
This makes their music to us so sweet.
And who can say but their warblings rise
To our Father's ear in yon beautiful skies?
Yet nobler, boy, than their highest lays,
Is the language of man, and the voice of praise.

                        Mother's eye,
                        Like the sky,
                            Shines bright;
                        Such beams
                        To my dreams
                            Give light.

There's a smile on the earth and the waters mild,
For the heart of a good and a happy child,
And the sighing leaves on the wind-rock'd limb

Will lull him to sleep like a cradle hymn;
While Nature, with pencil of rain-bow dye,
Writes the name of God for his waking eye.
Remember him, babe, ere thy day of care,
At morn, and at night, in thy simple prayer,
Breathe the incense of childhood, fresh and free,
And he in thine age will remember thee.

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