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CRADLE SONGS.
IV.
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
For the day is for waking—for rest the night,
And my boy must learn to use each aright;
Let him toil in the day, and steep
Through the night his senses in slumber sound,
To fit him to work when day comes round!
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
For the day is for waking—for rest the night,
And my boy must learn to use each aright;
Let him toil in the day, and steep
Through the night his senses in slumber sound,
To fit him to work when day comes round!
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
For my boy must be strong of body and limb,
To do all I'd have to be done by him;
Let his slumbers be sound and deep,
That stout of arm and of heart he may grow,
Both hot to do and keen to know;
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
For my boy must be strong of body and limb,
To do all I'd have to be done by him;
Let his slumbers be sound and deep,
That stout of arm and of heart he may grow,
Both hot to do and keen to know;
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
For no puny son must I have—not I,
Made through his days but to crouch and sigh,
To bend and to weakly weep;
No—my man must be strong to battle with care,
The bravest to do, and the boldest to dare;
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
For no puny son must I have—not I,
Made through his days but to crouch and sigh,
To bend and to weakly weep;
No—my man must be strong to battle with care,
The bravest to do, and the boldest to dare;
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
Yes, thy mother, my boy, would have thee one
By whom this old world's best work is done,
One who on its dullards shall sweep,
If it must be, through storm—if it must be, through strife
To still freer thoughts and to still purer life;
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
Yes, thy mother, my boy, would have thee one
By whom this old world's best work is done,
One who on its dullards shall sweep,
If it must be, through storm—if it must be, through strife
To still freer thoughts and to still purer life;
Sleep, boy, sleep—sleep!
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