To Mrs. Belle Angler

Dearest Aunt:

Many years ago you used to rock me to sleep, cradling me in your arms and singing me petty songs. Surely you have not forgotten that time, and I recall it with tenderness. You were very beautiful then. But you are more beautiful now; for, in the years that have come and gone since then, the joys and the sorrows of maternity have impressed their saintly grace upon the dear face I used to kiss, and have made your gentle heart gentler still.

Beloved lady, in memory of years to be recalled only in thought, and in token of my gratitude and affection, I bring you these little love-songs, and reverently I lay them at your feet.

Eugene Field

Chicago, November 1, 1894

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THE ROCK-A-BY LADY

The Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street

Comes stealing; comes creeping;

The poppies they hang from her head to her feet,

And each hath a dream that is tiny and fleet—

She bringeth her poppies to you, my sweet,

When she findeth you sleeping!

There is one little dream of a beautiful drum—

"Rub-a-dub!" it goeth;

There is one little dream of a big sugar-plum,

And lo! thick and fast the other dreams come

Of popguns that bang, and tin tops that hum,

And a trumpet that bloweth!

And dollies peep out of those wee little dreams

With laughter and singing;

And boats go a-floating on silvery streams,

And the stars peek-a-boo with their own misty gleams,

And up, up, and up, where the Mother Moon beams,

The fairies go winging!

Would you dream all these dreams that are tiny and fleet?

They'll come to you sleeping;

So shut the two eyes that are weary, my sweet,

For the Rock-a-By Lady from Hushaby street,

With poppies that hang from her head to her feet,

Comes stealing; comes creeping.