Talk:A Cradle Song

moved
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 & secret smiles, Little pretty infant wiles.

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

O, the cunning wiles that creep In thy little heart asleep! When thy little heart does 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.

Needs source, think its around Cygnis insignis (talk) 08:31, 30 March 2010 (UTC)