Sleep, Child--Thy mother's first-born, Thou, Yea, first and only one. Then sleep, oh sleep--Thy father calls, Unto his little son. To Thee a thousand times we raise A thousand songs of praise. I strewed the bed for thee alone, Sleep, Babe, so fair to see; I strewed it of the softest hay, Sleep, little soul of me. To Thee a thousand times we raise A thousand songs of praise. Sleep, then, my Jewel and my Crown, O milky Nectar, sleep! And mother will bring gifts to Thee, For Thee sweet beans will heap. To Thee a thousand times we raise A thousand songs of praise. I'll give Thee whatsoe'er Thou wilt, Sleep, then, beloved Boy; My little Treasure, quietly sleep, O Thou, Thy mother's joy! To Thee a thousand times we raise A thousand songs of praise. Oh, sleep, my throne, my Heart, o'er whom Thy mother doth rejoice! Thy lisp is heavenly to mine ears, And honey-sweet Thy voice. To Thee a thousand times we raise A thousand songs of praise. Roses I'll strew, that naught may lack, And violets, on the hay; Hyacinths and lilies on the floor And in the manger lay. To Thee a thousand times we raise A thousand songs of praise. And--wilt Thou music?--to Thy bed The shepherds I will bring; For none are better, sure, than they, More sweetly none can sing. To Thee a thousand times we raise A thousand songs of praise. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SMALL SELF AND THE LIBERAL SELF by JAMES GALVIN SPRINGTIME by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON TO J. D. H. (KILLED AT SURREY C. H., OCTOBER, 1866) by SIDNEY LANIER TO TWO UNKNOWN LADIES by AMY LOWELL |