Till all the wingëd shadows go;
Like drowsy flower my baby sway
Until my daughter hails the day.
Come hither, Sleep, from Chio's isle!
Take thou my little one awhile,
And twine soft fabric of the night
O'er merry eyes that glance too bright;
Make silent thou the laughter sound,
But leave the smile, and dimple round,
And rock my baby on thy breast