O my deir hert, young Jesus sweit, Prepare thy creddil in my spreit, And I sall rock Thee in my hert, And never mair from Thee depart. But I sall praise Thee evermoir, With sangis sweit unto Thy gloir; The knees of my hert sall I bow, And sing that richt Balulalow! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HER EYES TWIN POOLS by JAMES WELDON JOHNSON THE HERETIC: 3. MOCKERY by LOUIS UNTERMEYER THE DESERTED HOUSE by MARY ELIZABETH COLERIDGE A LITTLE DUTCH GARDEN by HARRIET WHITNEY DURBIN COME UP FROM THE FIELDS FATHER by WALT WHITMAN |