Poetry Archives

Come, white angels, to baby and me;
  Touch his blue eyes with the image of sleep,
  In his surprise he will cease to weep;
Hush, child, the angels are coming to thee!

Come, white doves, to baby and me;
  Softly whirr in the silent air,
  Flutter about his golden hair:
Hark, child, the doves are cooing to thee!

Come, white lilies, to baby and me;
  Drowsily nod before his eyes,
  So full of wonder, so round and wise:
Hist, child, the lily-bells tinkle for thee!

Come, white moon, to baby and me;
  Gently glide o’er the ocean of sleep,
  Silver the waves of its shadowy deep:
Sleep, child, and the whitest of dreams to thee.