Emily Pauline Johnson

Lullaby of the Iroquois

    Little brown baby-bird, lapped in your nest,
            Wrapped in your nest,
            Strapped in your nest,
    Your straight little cradle-board rocks you to rest;
            Its hands are your nest;
            Its bands are your nest;
    It swings from the down-bending branch of the oak;
    You watch the camp flame, and the curling grey smoke;
    But, oh, for your pretty black eyes sleep is best, -
    Little brown baby of mine, go to rest.

    Little brown baby-bird swinging to sleep,
            Winging to sleep,
            Singing to sleep,
    Your wonder-black eyes that so wide open keep,
            Shielding their sleep,
            Unyielding to sleep,
    The heron is homing, the plover is still,
    The night-owl calls from his haunt on the hill,
    Afar the fox barks, afar the stars peep, -
    Little brown baby of mine, go to sleep.