William Blake

A Cradle Song

Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,

Dreaming in the joys of night;

Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep

Little sorrows sit and weep.


Sweet babe, in thy face

Soft desires I can trace,

Secret joys and secret smiles,

Little pretty infant wiles.


As thy softest limbs I feel,

Smiles as of the morning steal

O'er thy cheek, and o'er thy breast

Where thy little heart doth rest.


O the cunning wiles that creep

In thy little heart asleep!

When thy little heart doth wake,

Then the dreadful light shall break.


From thy cheeck and from thy eye

O'er the youthful harvest nigh

Infant wiles and infant smiles

Heaven and Earth of peace beguiles.