Songs of Childhood - novelonlinefull.com
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I met at eve the Prince of Sleep, His was a still and lovely face, He wandered through a valley steep Lovely in a lonely place.
His garb was grey of lavender, About his brows a poppy-wreath Burned like dim coals, and everywhere The air was sweeter for his breath.
His twilight feet no sandals wore, His eyes shone faint in their own flame, Fair moths that gloomed his steps before Seemed letters of his lovely name.
His house is in the mountain ways, A phantom house of misty walls, Whose golden flocks at evening graze, And witch the moon with m.u.f.fled calls.
Upwelling from his shadowy springs Sweet waters shake a trembling sound, There flit the hoot-owl's silent wings, There hath his web the silkworm wound.
Dark in his pools clear visions lurk, And rosy, as with morning buds, Along his dales of broom and birk Dreams haunt his solitary woods.
I met at eve the Prince of Sleep, His was a still and lovely face, He wandered through a valley steep, Lovely in a lonely place.
LULLABY
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
The singing mouse sings plaintively, The sweet night-bird in the chesnut-tree-- They sing together, bird and mouse, In starlight, in darkness, lonely, sweet, The wild notes and the faint notes meet-- Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
Amid the lilies floats the moth, The mole along his galleries goeth In the dark earth; the summer moon Looks like a shepherd through the pane Seeking his feeble lamb again-- Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
Time comes to keep night-watch with thee Nodding with roses; and the sea Saith 'Peace! Peace!' amid his foam White as thy night-clothes; 'O be still!'
The wind cries up the whisp'ring hill-- Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul!
ENVOY
There clung three roses to a stem, Did all their hues of summer don, But came a wind and troubled them, And all were gone.
I heard three bells in unison Clap out some transient heart's delight, Time and the hour brought silence on And the dark night.
Doth not Orion even set!
O love, love, prove true alone, Till youthful hearts ev'n love forget, Then, child, begone!
