Now candle-flames disperse the rout
Of shadows and their giant wars;
And though the roof of night without
Be spanned with dusk and set with stars,
’Tis lullaby,
The elm-tops cry,
And lullaby, the leaves that pass
In stealth across the window-glass.
The comb shall sleek your drooping head
And through the darling tangles go
And all your night attire is spread
Before the fire to face the glow,
And lullaby,
The cinders sigh,
For ev’ry rosy palace gone,
Fall’n in their dwarfish Ilion.
Now rest, your prayers said aright
And timely supped your milky bowl,
Your little body all as white
And sweet as your unsoilèd soul;
And lullaby,
Her melody,
Who from the quilted bedside goes,
A-tiptoe, when your eye-lids close.