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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

A GHETTO CRADLE-SONG, by                    
First Line: Sleep, my boy, the night is treading
Last Line: Gold--in dreams, in dreams.
Alternate Author Name(s): Raskin, P. M.
Subject(s): Ghettos

Sleep, my boy, the night is treading
On its tiptoes still:
Gold the twinkling stars are shedding
Over vale and hill.

Golden stars the sky bejewel,
And they spark and glow;
Sleep before you know how cruel
Is our life below.

Sleep, my boy, the moon is swimming
In a silver stream;
Dozing lakes with crystal brimming
Dream a golden dream.

Gold and silver we may borrow
From the skies o'erhead;
Care awakens with the morrow,
Care for daily bread.

Sleep, my boy, the birds are trilling
From each tree and nest;
"Night is sacred, night is filling
Wood and vale with rest."

Leaf and blade by breezes shaken
Softly whisper bliss;
Sleep, my boy, before you waken
Calm on earth to miss.

Sleep, my boy, and dream of heaven,
Dream of joy and mirth;
Heaven's dreams to us are given
To forget the earth.

Sleep, my boy, for clouds may gather
Heaven's charm to mar;
Up in heaven is your father
Shining as a star.

Sleep, my boy, the angels mind you
In your tiny bed;
Earth is wide. but who will find you
Room to rest your head?

Sleep, the night is softly treading,
Kindling lakes and streams;
Gold the twinkling stars are shedding,
Gold--in dreams, in dreams.

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