If thou wilt shut thy drowsy eyes,
My mulberry one, my golden sun!
The rose shall sing thee lullabies,
My pretty cosset lambkin!
And thou shalt swing in an almond-tree,
With a flood of moonbeams rocking thee---...
|
I thought myself, indeed, secure, |
I say, as one who never feared |
I count my treasures o'er with care,--- |
COBBLER |
My harp is on the willow-tree, |
Your gran'ma, in her youth, was quite |