Chanticleer

A crowing, cuddling little Babe was he,
A child for little children far or near.
When he stood and crowed upon his mother's knee,
The morning echoed, "Welcome, Chanticleer!"
He was a crowing, cuddling little Babe!


When his mother wore, alas, her life away,
He was wonder wide to see the children weep,
But he crowed, and cuddled close enough to lay
His head upon her heart, and went to sleep:--
He was a cuddling, crowing little Babe!


God Himself was tender to him; for, behold,
An Angel in a dream (the children said)
Came and kissed him till his little cheek was cold;
So he never saw the tears the Twilight shed.
He was a crowing, cuddling little Babe!