Little one, thy mother's weeping; Thou with fresh and holy heart Slumbering on the ocean art;-- While I sorrow, thou art sleeping, Though the pallor and the gloom Our forlor, frail bark entomb. Rest thee, rest thee, little one! Ah! thou needest not a pillow With those tresses thick and fair! Ah! thou heedest not a billow Moistening thy tangled hair, Nor the voices of the storm, But in thy purple mantlet liest warm, My beautiful, my own! Rest thee, rest thee, pretty one! Yet if pain were pain to thee, If thou knewest how to fear, And didst lend thy little ear, I would say again to thee: Rest thee, rest thee, darling one! I would bid thee baby, sleep; And be thou hushed, O restless deep! Thou, too, my boundless sorrow! Father, let some fairer morrow Change for us thy sovran will, Bring us good beyond this ill! When I make too bold a prayer, Thy vengeance on the babe forbear, Let my head receive it still! Rest thee, rest thee, little one! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARRIAGE A-LA-MODE: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN ON LENDING A PUNCH BOWL by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES IN TEMPTATION by CHARLES WESLEY THE DOVE by ABUL HASAN OF SEVILLE THE VILLAGE MUNITIONS CO., INC.; FORMERLY THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS |