The fairy’s name was Whisper, and she flew around at night;
She filled the lamps of evening, and she set the grasses right;
She waked a lazy glow-worm, where the mossy wood-spring drips,
And hushed the noisy froggies, with her finger on her lips.
“It’s time to sleep! It’s time to sleep!” she told the forest birds;
She soothed the hurried river, with a chant of magic words;
And, finding Billy Beaver, who had planned to work at night,
She sent him off to bed at once, by winking fire-fly light.
The fairy’s name was Whisper; and this I know is true;
And when she’d hung the mists out, there were other things to do;
She caught her robes about her, and she flew from door to door,
To set the babies sleeping, in a hundred homes or more.
And here’s a little baby, who would like to stay awake,
For happy lights are riding, in the boats upon the lake;
And here a baby cuddles,—and here a baby cries,—
And Whisper finds the newest one, and shuts her tiny eyes.
And do the mothers see her? O never; not at all;
The kitten doesn’t see her, nor the clock upon the wall;
But all the nodding babies, who lie, or walk, or creep;
Know, “Whisper’s come to see us;” and then—they’re—off—to—sleep.