The Poetry Corner

Lullaby.

By James Whitcomb Riley

The maple strews the embers of its leaves O'er the laggard swallows nestled 'neath the eaves; And the moody cricket falters in his cry - Baby-bye! - And the lid of night is falling o'er the sky - Baby-bye! - The lid of night is falling o'er the sky! The rose is lying pallid, and the cup Of the frosted calla-lily folded up; And the breezes through the garden sob and sigh - Baby-bye! - O'er the sleeping blooms of summer where they lie - Baby-bye! - O'er the sleeping blooms of summer where they lie! Yet, Baby - O my Baby, for your sake This heart of mine is ever wide awake, And my love may never droop a drowsy eye - Baby-bye! - Till your own are wet above me when I die - Baby-bye! - Till your own are wet above me when I die.