Alfred Perceval Graves [1846-1931]
CRADLE SONG
I
Lord Gabriel, wilt thou not rejoice
When at last a little boy's
Cheek lies heavy as a rose,
And his eyelids close?
Gabriel, when that hush may be,
This sweet hand all heedfully
I'll undo, for thee alone,
From his mother's own.
Then the far blue highways paven
With the burning stars of heaven,
He shall gladden with the sweet
Hasting of his feet—
Feet so brightly bare and cool,
Leaping, as from pool to pool;
From a little laughing boy
Splashing rainbow joy!
Gabriel, wilt thou understand
How to keep his hovering hand—
Never shut, as in a bond,
From the bright beyond?—
Nay, but though it cling and close
Tightly as a climbing rose,
Clasp it only so—aright,
Lest his heart take fright.