A Cradle Song (Blake, 1794)

A Cradle Song

Sleep, Sleep, beauty bright,Dreaming o'er the joys of night;Sleep, Sleep; in thy sleepLittle sorrows sit & weep.

Sweet Babe, in thy faceSoft desires I can trace,Secret joys and secret smiles,Little pretty infant wiles.

As thy softest limbs I feel,Smiles as of the morning stealO’er thy cheek & o’er thy breastWhere thy little heart doth rest.

O, the cunning wiles that creepIn thy little heart asleep.When thy little heart doth wake,Then the dreadful lightnings break.

From thy cheek & from thy eyeO'er the youthful harvests nighInfant wiles & infant smilesHeaven & Earth of peace beguiles.