A Cradle-Song

Sleep, white love, sleep, A cedarn cradle holds thee, And twilight, like a silver-woven coverlid, Enfolds thee. Moon and star keep charmed watch Upon thy lying; Water plovers thro' the dusk Are tremulously crying. Sleep, white love mine, Till day doth shine.

Sleep, white love, sleep, The daylight wanes, and deeper Gathers the blue darkness O'er the cradle of the sleeper. Cliodhna's curachs, carmine-oared, On Loch-da-linn are gleaming; Blind bats flutter thro' the night, And carrion birds are screaming. Sleep, white love mine, Till day doth shine.

Sleep, white love, sleep, The holy mothers, Anne and Mary, Sit high in heaven, dreaming On the seven ends of Eire. Brigid sits beside them, Spinning lamb-white wool on whorls, Singing fragrant songs of love To little naked boys and girls. Sleep, white love mine, Till day doth shine.