Poem by William Butler Yeats

A Cradle Song

THE angels are stooping
Above your bed;
They weary of trooping
With the whimpering dead.
God's laughing in Heaven
To see you so good;
The Sailing Seven
Are gay with His mood.
I sigh that kiss you,
For I must own
That I shall miss you
When you have grown. 

1. On a Political Prisoner
2. The Magi
3. Love's Loneliness
4. Beautiful Lofty Things
5. Tom at Cruachan

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