Airily the leaves are playing
In blue summer light;
Fugitive soft shadow laying
Lovingly o'er marble white,
Where he lies asleep.
Lilies of the valley bending
Lowly bells amid the green;
Sweet moss-roses meekly lending
Their soft beauty to the scene
Of his quiet sleep.
All around him heather glowing
Purple in the sun;
Sound of bees and bird o'erflowing
Lull my lost, my little one,
Lying there asleep.
Harsher sight or sound be banished,
For my child is gone to rest;
These are telling of my vanished
In the language of the blest,
Wake him not from sleep!
