 | [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary |  |
CRADLE SONG.
All by the sides of the wide wild river
Surging sad through the sodden land,
There be the black reeds washing together—
Washing together in rain and sand;
Going, blowing, flowing, together—
Rough are the winds, and the tide runs high—
Hush little babe in thy silken cradle—
Lull lull, lull lull, lull lullaby!
Surging sad through the sodden land,
There be the black reeds washing together—
Washing together in rain and sand;
Going, blowing, flowing, together—
Rough are the winds, and the tide runs high—
Hush little babe in thy silken cradle—
Lull lull, lull lull, lull lullaby!
Father is riding home, little baby,
Riding home through the wind and rain;
Flinty hoofs on the flag stems beating
Thrum like a flail on the golden grain.
All in the wild, wet reeds of the lowlands,
Dashed and plashed with the freezing foam,
There be the blood-red wings of the starlings
Shining to light and lead him home.
Riding home through the wind and rain;
Flinty hoofs on the flag stems beating
Thrum like a flail on the golden grain.
All in the wild, wet reeds of the lowlands,
Dashed and plashed with the freezing foam,
There be the blood-red wings of the starlings
Shining to light and lead him home.
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Spurring hard o'er the grass-gray ridges—
Slacking rein in the low, wet land,
Where be the black reeds washing together—
Washing together in rain and sand.
Down of the yellow-throated creeper—
Plumes of the woodcock, green and black—
Boughs of salix, and combs of honey—
These be the gifts he is bearing back.
Slacking rein in the low, wet land,
Where be the black reeds washing together—
Washing together in rain and sand.
Down of the yellow-throated creeper—
Plumes of the woodcock, green and black—
Boughs of salix, and combs of honey—
These be the gifts he is bearing back.
Yester morning four sweet ground-doves
Sung so gay to their nest in the wall—
Oh, by the moaning, and oh, by the droning,
The wild, wild water is over them all!
Come, O morning, come with thy roses,
Flame like a burning bush in the sky—
Hush, little babe, in thy silken cradle—
Lull lull, lull lull, lull lullaby!
Sung so gay to their nest in the wall—
Oh, by the moaning, and oh, by the droning,
The wild, wild water is over them all!
Come, O morning, come with thy roses,
Flame like a burning bush in the sky—
Hush, little babe, in thy silken cradle—
Lull lull, lull lull, lull lullaby!
| [Poems by Cary in] The Poetical Works Of Alice and Phoebe Cary | |