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A Lullaby The stars are twinkling in the skies, The earth is lost in slumbers deep; So hush, my sweet, and close thine eyes, And let me lull thy soul to sleep. Compose thy dimpled hands to rest, And like a little birdling lie Secure within thy cozy nest Upon my loving mother breast, And slumber to my lullaby, So hushaby—O hushaby. The moon is singing to a star The little song I sing to you; The father sun has strayed afar, As baby's sire is straying too. And so the loving mother moon Sings to the little star on high; And as she sings, her gentle tune Is borne to me, and thus I croon For thee, my sweet, that lullaby Of hushaby—O hushaby. There is a little one asleep That does not hear his mother's song; But angel watchers—as I weep— Surround his grave the night-tide long. And as I sing, my sweet, to you, Oh, would the lullaby I sing— The same sweet lullaby he knew While slumb'ring on this bosom too— Were borne to him on angel's wing! So hushaby—O hushaby. Eugene Field's other poems:
Poems of another poets with the same name (Стихотворения других поэтов с таким же названием): ![]() Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1174 |
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Английская поэзия. Адрес для связи eng-poetry.ru@yandex.ru |