A Cradle Song
Sleep, Sleep beauty bright,
Dreaming o’er the joys of night.
Sleep, Sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit & weep.
Sweet Babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys & secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.
As thy softest limbs I feel,
Smiles as of the morning steal
Over thy cheek, & o’er thy breast
Where thy little heart does rest.
O, the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep!
When thy little heart does wake,
Then the dreadful lightnings break
From thy cheek & from thy eye,
O’er the youthful harvests nigh.
Infant wiles & infant smiles
Heaven & Earth of peace beguiles.
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Needs source, think its around Cygnis insignis (talk) 08:31, 30 March 2010 (UTC)Reply
