(Behind a cock of hay) The ribs of new moons Are the rockers that hold My cloud-covered lark, And the cradle is rolled By the foot of the Wind, Shoo-ha-loo, Shoo-ha-loo, By the foot of the Wind As I croon you to sleep. The ribs of the waves Are the rockers that hold My spray-covered gull, And the cradle is rolled By the touch of the Tide, Hush-a-hoo, Hush-a-hoo, By the touch of the Tide As I sing you to sleep. O the bent willow-boughs Are the rockers that hold My leaf-covered bird, And the cradle is rolled By the swing of the Tree, Lu-la-loo, Lu-la-loo, By the swing--let me see-- Why, the baby's asleep! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE MEDAL; A SATIRE AGAINST SEDITION by JOHN DRYDEN FORERUNNERS by RALPH WALDO EMERSON AN ECHO FROM WILLOW-WOOD by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 10. THE PORTRAIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI OUR LEFT' by FRANCIS ORRERY TICKNOR MOCK EPITAPH ON MR. AND MRS. ESTLIN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |