But His sleep is fitful
In His Mother’s breast,
The Dove goes mourning:
Give Him rest; give Him rest!
Katharine Tynan
IN THE NIGHT
“Who is crying in the night
At my nursery door?
What’s that pretty shining light
But His sleep is fitful
In His Mother’s breast,
The Dove goes mourning:
Give Him rest; give Him rest!
Katharine Tynan
“Who is crying in the night
At my nursery door?
What’s that pretty shining light