Hush thee, my baby. Thy mother's o'er the mountains gone, There she will dig the little garden-patch, And water she'll fetch from the river. Ah! hush thee, my baby, Thy mother's o'er the mountains gone, There she will dig the little garden-patch, And wood she will bring from the forest. Hush thee, my baby! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE BALLAD OF WILLIAM SYCAMORE (1790-1880) by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET ON A PORTRAIT OF WORDSWORTH BY B.R. HAYDON by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING SONGS IN ABSENCE: 7. THE SHIP by ARTHUR HUGH CLOUGH HYMN: FIRST SUNDAY AFTER EPIPHANY: 2 by REGINALD HEBER WIDOW MALONE by CHARLES JAMES LEVER DIVINA COMMEDIA (INTRODUCTORY POEMS): 1 by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE CHILDREN'S HOUR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW |