Tag Archives: Jessie Willcox Smith

A Little Girl’s Thoughts

Bedtime in Summer. Jessie Wilcox Smith.


A Little Girl’s Thoughts

Alice van Leer Carrick


Why does the wind lie down at night

When all the sky is red,

Why does the moon begin to shine

When I am put to bed,

And all the little stars come out

And twinkle overhead?


I see the sun shine all day,

I gather daisies in my play,

But oh, I truly wish that I

Could see the stars bloom in the sky!

I’d love to see the moon shine down,

And silver all the roofs in town,

But always off to sleep I go

Just as the sun is getting low.

‘Sonnets Are Full of Love’

Mother and Child. Jessie Wilcox Smith. 1908.


Christina Rossetti, 1881


Sonnets are full of love, and this my tome

Has many sonnets: so here now shall be

One sonnet more, a love sonnet, from me

To her whose heart is my heart’s quiet home.

To my first Love, my mother, on whose knee

I learnt love-lore that is not troublesome;

Whose service is my special dignity,

And she my loadstar while I go and come

And so because you love me, and because

I love you, Mother, I have woven a wreath

Of rhymes wherewith to crown your honored name:

In you no fourscore years can dim the flame

Of love, whose blessed grow transcends the laws

Of time and change and mortal life and death.


This is the dedicatory sonnet that prefaces “my tome”—Rosetti’s fourth collection, A Pageant and Other Poems.

The Teacher

Cover for Good Housekeeping. Jessie Wilcox Smith. 1921.


The Teacher

Leslie Pickney Hill


LORD, who am I to teach the way

To little children day by day,

So prone myself to go astray?


I teach them KNOWLEDGE, but I know

How faint they flicker and how low

The candles of my knowledge glow.


I teach them POWER to will and do,

But only know to learn anew

My own great weakness through and through.


I teach them LOVE for all mankins

And all God’s ceatures, but I find

My love comes lagging far behind.


Lord, if their guide I still must be,

Oh, let the little children see

The teacher leaning hard on Thee.

Sweet and Low

Moonbeams. Jessie Willcox Smith.


Sweet and Low

Alfred Lord Tennyson, 1847


Sweet and low, sweet and low,

Wind of the western sea,

   Low, low, breathe and blow,

Wind of the western sea!

   Over the rolling waters go,

Come from the dying moon, and blow.

Blow him again to me;

While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps.


Sleep and rest, sleep and rest,

Father will come to thee soon;

   Rest, rest, on mother’s breast,

Father will come to thee soon;

   Father will come to his babe in the nest,

Silver sails all out of the west

Under the silver moon:

Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.