Lullaby
by James Whitcomb Riley

The maple strews the embers of its leaves
O’er the swallows nestled ‘neath the eaves.
And the moody cricket falters in his cry
and the lid of night is falling o’er the sky- baby bye,
the lid of night is falling o’er the sky.

The rose is lying pallid by the cup
where the frosted lily folded up.
And the breezes through the garden gently sigh
o’er the sleeping blooms of summer where they lie- baby bye,
o’er the sleeping blooms of summer where they lie.

Yet, baby, oh my baby, for your sake,
this heart of mine is ever wide awake.
My love will never close a drowsy eye
till your own are wet above me when I die- baby bye,
till your own are wet above me when I die.