Эмили Полин Джонсон (Emily Pauline Johnson)

The Birds' Lullaby

    I

    Sing to us, cedars; the twilight is creeping
        With shadowy garments, the wilderness through;
    All day we have carolled, and now would be sleeping,
        So echo the anthems we warbled to you;
                    While we swing, swing,
                    And your branches sing,
            And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.

    II

    Sing to us, cedars; the night-wind is sighing,
        Is wooing, is pleading, to hear you reply;
    And here in your arms we are restfully lying,
        And longing to dream to your soft lullaby;
                    While we swing, swing,
                    And your branches sing,
            And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.

    III

    Sing to us, cedars; your voice is so lowly,
        Your breathing so fragrant, your branches so strong;
    Our little nest-cradles are swaying so slowly,
        While zephyrs are breathing their slumberous song.
                    And we swing, swing,
                    While your branches sing,
            And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.

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