  LAST night, whiles that the curfew bell ben ringing, I heard a moder to her dearie singing “Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”; And presently that chylde did cease hys weeping, And on his moder’s breast did fall a-sleeping To “lolly, lolly, lollyby.” Faire ben the chylde unto his moder clinging, But fairer yet the moder’s gentle singing— “Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”; And angels came and kisst the dearie smiling In dreems while him hys moder ben beguiling With “lolly, lolly, lollyby. Then to my harte saies I: “Oh, that thy beating Colde be assuaged by some sweete voice repeating ‘Lollyby, lolly, lollyby’; That like this lyttel chylde I, too, ben sleeping With plaisaunt phantasies about me creeping, To ‘lolly, lolly, lollyby’!” Some time—mayhap when curfew bells are ringing— A weary harte shall heare straunge voices singing “Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”; Some time, mayhap, with Chryst’s love round me streaming, I shall be lulled into eternal dreeming, With “lolly, lolly, lollyby.” |
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