Linen sheets have o'er it lain
More than snow new-fallen white.
Perfume sweet, health-giving scent,
The meadows' pride, is o'er it sprent:
Sleep, dear son, a little spell,
Sleep, sleep, and thou shalt be well.
Change thy side and rest thee there,
Beauty! love! turn on thy side,
O my son, thou dost not bide
As of yore, so fresh and fair.