Ii

And after the twilight comes midnight, who wears A mantle of purple so old, so old! Who stables the lily-white moon, it is said, In a wonderful chamber with violet stairs, Up which you can see her come, silent of tread, On hoofs of pale silver and gold.

Dream, dream, little one, dream: This is the way to Lullaby Land. Lullaby, rockaby, where, white as cream, Sugar-plum bowers drop sweets in your hand. Dream, dream, little one, dream; The cradle you lie in is tight at each seam, The boat that goes sailing to Lullaby Land. Over the sea, sweet, over the sand, Lullaby, rockaby, over the sand.