Show A THE LITTLE littlehead hed CRADLE A little red cradle tor for long ions years unused and hidden away among relies relics of old I 1 unearthed from the dust all battered and bruised the rude fashioned structure my infantile infant fold in it is clustered the memories of home the smiles of my mother who beut bent oer me there her soft lullabies lull which she sang sane in the gloam while I 1 was in slumber wrapped safely from care the quaint looking trophy a symbol of love where fond faces have gladly appeared was tenderly watched with devotion above by those whom the little red cradle endeared I 1 thoughtfully gaze on the simple affair affeid where I 1 when a babe often rocked to and fro and finger worn spots which are am sunken and bare speak of patient endurance in days long ago methinks I 1 can fancy the pleasure and pride the pictures of peace that were framed in its space when footsteps moved softly in silence beside the little red cradle with kindness and grace it was a safe haven from sorrows and fears and tenderly guarded the lives ta la its care cam it faithfully baffled the tempests temPest 3 of years and tempered the bosom with patience and prayer all those that were trundled by night and by day are scattered some living and others now dead anti aaa if the red cradle could speak it would say how well I 1 did shelter the ones that have fled the little red cradle recalls to my mind the ties it once cherished now severed in twain yet deep in its narrow confines are en ea shrines shri ned the visions that never will rock reek it again george sands johnson |