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...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: WILLIAM JONES by EDGAR LEE MASTERS SPIRIT OF '76 by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS PHILLIS'S AGE by MATTHEW PRIOR A LEAVE-TAKING by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE IL PLEUT DOUCEMENT SUR LA VILLE by PAUL VERLAINE THE PREACHER by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER |