 | English Roses |  |
CRADLE SONG.
Baby, rest,
My baby blest!
With your cooing,
Sweetly wooing
All the kindness and the care,
Deeper than the deepest fountains,
Higher than the highest mountains,
Bodied in a mother's prayer.
Never for the poor and prest,
Did the strongest wall of iron
With such perfect peace environ
Souls, as does a mother's breast.
Baby, rest,
My baby blest!
My baby blest!
With your cooing,
Sweetly wooing
All the kindness and the care,
Deeper than the deepest fountains,
Higher than the highest mountains,
Bodied in a mother's prayer.
Never for the poor and prest,
Did the strongest wall of iron
With such perfect peace environ
Souls, as does a mother's breast.
Baby, rest,
My baby blest!
Baby, sleep
In the watch that angels keep
Gently round you,
Who have wound you
Safe from all besetting harms,
Far above the reach of malice
With its black and poisoned chalice,
In the girdle of their arms.
Why should Baby wake and weep,
With the hosts of Light in legions
Sent by God from heavenly regions,
For the vigils which they keep?
Baby, sleep
In visions deep.
In the watch that angels keep
Gently round you,
Who have wound you
Safe from all besetting harms,
Far above the reach of malice
With its black and poisoned chalice,
In the girdle of their arms.
Why should Baby wake and weep,
With the hosts of Light in legions
Sent by God from heavenly regions,
For the vigils which they keep?
Baby, sleep
In visions deep.
| English Roses | |