THE wANpERER TO HER CHILD.
{"newspaper_name": "The Wilmingtonian, and Delaware advertiser.", "edition": "01", "page": "p1", "byline": ""}
The sun is sunk, and daylight gone,
AS over the moor we journey oni
lThe SHOWS are lying all deep and chill;
The clouds are gath'ring round the hill
The winds they gre moaning through the air,
And backwards tossing the branches bare;
Oh hush, oh hush, thy piteous cry,
And shut in repose thy little eye;


BE still my babe, and sleep!
Though cold the SHOWS, and though cold the air,
That sweeps o'er the frozen mountains bare,
More cold was that ungenerous mind,
Which holiest VOWS were vain to bind
Which stole my peace, and, running me,
Left Inc to roam the world with thee:
oh hush, and oh hush, thy piercing cry,
And will sing you lullaby;
/, BE still, my babe, and sleep.
Thy father he cares not fer his child;
Thou art forsaken, and rcviled;
From town to town, q dreary way,
We wander along from day to day,
Begging crust Of the poor mans bread,
And laying us downin some humble shed;
All but thy self look in scorn on me,
And, OH / shall ever be kind to thee;


Be hush'd, my babe, and sleep.
All once, sweet babe, had home,
Nor dreamt then that thus should roam;
BY a pleasant village our cottage stood,
And my parents were pious, and kind, and good;
They had no comfort but me on earth,
For was the light of their lonely hearth;
Till there came to our door in cruelty gay,
Thy father, who stole their treasure away;


Be hush'd, my babe, and sleep!
The old man broke his heart and died,
And soon my mother was laid by his side;
was living in weakness when these they told,
And thou vert an infant three days old;
prayed for death, and wished to die,
Till heard thy pitiful, tender cry,
And then pettioned for life, to be
In thy helpless years mother to thee;


BE hush'd, my babe, and sleep!


Aheavcn may yet smile for US,


And the heart which could neglect us thus,
May feel the misery we have felt,


And share the sorrow itself hath dealt;
We soon shall be over these barren ways,
And will warm thee, love, at the blaze,
Where, mid yon trees, on the upland moor, :
Stands kindly open the peasants door;


Then hush, my babe, and sleep!