By Ruth Margaret
Muskrat
'Cross
the sky-blue water
Glides
a light canoe,
'Tis
thy warrior father
Coming
back to you.
O'er
the towering tree tops,
Where
the gay stars peep,
Fall
the timid dew drops.
Sleep,
my papoose,[1]
sleep.
Sleep,
my papoose, sleep,
Close
your weary eyes;
While
the shadows creep
And
the pine tree sighs;
While
the winds are blowing
And
the camp fires leap,
Father's
homeward rowing,
Sleep,
my papoose, sleep.
Sleep,
my wee papoose
In
the evening breeze,
I
will guard you close
'Neath
sheltering trees;
While
the coyote's wails
Cross
the lone hills sweep,
Sleep
while daylight fails,
Sleep,
my papoose, sleep