WHEN green leaves come again, my love,
When green leaves come again,—
Why put on such a cloudy face,
When green leaves come again?

‘Ah, this spring will be like the last,
Of promise false and vain;
And summer die in winter’s arms
Ere green leaves come again.

‘So slip the seasons—and our lives;
’T is idle to complain:
But yet I sigh, I scarce know why,
When green leaves come again.’

Nay, lift up thankful eyes, my sweet!
Count equal, lost and gain:
Because, as long as the world lasts,
Green leaves will come again.

For, sure as earth lives under snows,
And Love lives under pain,
‘T is good to sing with everything,
’When green leaves come again.’

When mother sleeps

When mother sleeps, a slamming door
Disturbs her not at all;
A man might walk across the floor
Or wander through the hall
A pistol shot outside would not
Drive slumber from her eyes—
But she is always on the spot
The moment baby cries.

The thunder crash she would not hear,
Nor shouting in the street;
A barking dog, however near,
Of sleep can never cheat
Dear mother, but I’ve noticed this
To my profound surprise:
That always wide-awake she is
The moment baby cries.

However weary she may be,
Though wrapped in slumber deep,
Somehow it always seems to me
Her vigil she will keep.
Sound sleeper that she is, I take
It in her heart there lies
A love that causes her to wake
The moment baby cries.

Night

I thank thee, Father, that the night is near
When I this conscious being may resign;
Whose only task thy words of love to hear,
And in thy acts to find each act of mine;
A task too great to give a child like me,
The myriad-handed labors of the day,
Too many for my closing eyes to see,
Thy words too frequent for my tongue to say;
Yet when thou see’st me burthened by thy love,
Each other gift more lovely then appears,
For dark-robed night comes hovering from above,
And all thine other gifts to me endears;
And while within her darkened couch I sleep,
Thine eyes untired above will constant vigils keep.