Lullay

Now lullay, my sweeting,
What hast thou to fear?
It is only the wind
In the willows we hear,
And the sigh of the waves
By the sand dunes, my dear.
Stay thy wailing.
Let sleep be
Thy solace, thou dear;
And dreams that shall charm
From that cheek every tear.
See, see,
I am with thee
No harm can come near.
Sleep, sleep, then, my loved one,
My lorn one, my dear!”  . . .
I heard that far singing
With pining oppressed,
When grief for one absent
My bosom distressed,
When the star of the evening
Was low in the West.
And I mused as I listened,
With sorrow oppressed,
Would that heart were my pillow,
That safety my rest!
Ah, would I could slumber—
A child laid to rest—
Could abide but a moment
Assoiled, on that breast,
While the planet of evening
Sinks low in the West,
Could wake, and dream on,
At peace on that breast;
Ere fall the last darkness,
When silence is best.
For alas, love is mortal;
And night soon must come;
And another, yet deeper,
When—no more to roam—
The lost one within me
Shall find its long home,
In a sleep none can break
In the hush of the tomb.
Cold, sombre, eternal,
Dark, narrow that room;
But no grief, no repining
Will deepen its gloom;
Though of voice, once adored,
Not an echo can come;
Of hand, lip, and cheek,
My rapture and doom,
Once my all, and adored,
No least phantom can come. . . .
“Now lullay, my sweeting,
There is nothing to fear.
It is only the wind
In the willows we hear,
And the sigh of the waves
By the sand dunes, my dear.
Stay thy wailing. Let sleep be
Thy solace, thou dear;
And dreams that shall charm
From that cheek every tear.
See, see,
I am with thee,
No harm can come near.
Sleep sweetly, my loved one,
My lorn one, my dear!”