  Now candle-flames disperse the rout Of shadows and their giant wars; And though the roof of night without Be spanned with dusk and set with stars, ’Tis lullaby, The elm-tops cry, And lullaby, the leaves that pass In stealth across the window-glass. The comb shall sleek your drooping head And through the darling tangles go And all your night attire is spread Before the fire to face the glow, And lullaby, The cinders sigh, For ev’ry rosy palace gone, Fall’n in their dwarfish Ilion. Now rest, your prayers said aright And timely supped your milky bowl, Your little body all as white And sweet as your unsoilÈd soul; And lullaby, Her melody, Who from the quilted bedside goes, A-tiptoe, when your eye-lids close. |
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