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A Baby Song
Come, white angels, to baby and me;
Touch his blue eyes with the image of sleep,
In his surprise he will cease to weep;
Hush, child, the angels are coming to thee!
Come, white doves, to baby and me;
Softly whirr in the silent air,
Flutter about his golden hair:
Hark, child, the doves are cooing to thee!
Come, white lilies, to baby and me;
Drowsily nod before his eyes,
So full of wonder, so round and wise:
Hist, child, the lily-bells tinkle for thee!
Come, white moon, to baby and me;
Gently glide o’er the ocean of sleep,
Silver the waves of its shadowy deep:
Sleep, child, and the whitest of dreams to thee.
Elizabeth Drew Stoddard
![[THE RINGÈD MOON SITS EERILY] - WILLIAM FAULKNER](/content/upload/posts/the-little-peach-20241225104916.png?width=200&height=150&mode=crop&scale=both&meta=square)
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