Nothing blows than you, more fair,
Sweeter far than breath of morn
In its cradle, newly born.
All the world was made for you,
Beauties rare and mother, too;
Every loving heart a nest
For your tiny head to rest.
Soon the sun to bed will creep,
Brown Eyes eery lie to sleep,
Steal across the dream-lit sea,
Then come sailing home to me!
Published in The Brownies' Book, May 1920