A Cradle Song (Blake, 1794)



A Cradle Song

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

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

As thy softest limbs I feel, Smiles as of the morning steal O’er thy cheek & o’er thy breast Where thy little heart doth rest.

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

From thy cheek & from thy eye O'er the youthful harvests nigh Infant wiles & infant smiles Heaven & Earth of peace beguiles.