The sky is dark and the hills are white, As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night; And this is the song the storm-king sings, As over the world his cloak he flings: "Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;" He rustles his wings, and gruffly sings: "Sleep, little one, sleep." On yonder mountainside a vine Clings at the foot of a mother pine; The tree bends over the trembling thing, And only the vine can hear her sing: "Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep-- What shall you fear when I am here? Sleep, little one, sleep." The king may sing in his bitter flight, The tree may croon to the vine to-night, But the little snow flake at my breast Liketh the song I sing the best-- Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep; Weary thou art, a-next my heart; Sleep, little one, sleep. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO-MORROW TO FRESH WOODS AND PASTURES NEW' by AMY LOWELL AN ISLAND (SAINT HELENA, 1821) by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON SACRIFICE by RALPH WALDO EMERSON A FIT OF RHYME AGAINST RHYME [OR, RIME] by BEN JONSON MILK FOR THE CAT by HAROLD MONRO THE HOUSE OF LIFE: 7. SUPREME SURRENDER by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI |