Cradle song
L. Lehmann
From groves of spice,
O'er field or rice,
Athwart the lotus stream,
I bring for you,
Aglint with dew,
A little lovely dream.
Sweet, shut your eyes.
The wild fire-flies
Dance through the fairy
neem;
From poppy-bole
For you I stole
A little lovely dream.
Dear eyes, good-night,
In golden light
The stars around you gleam;
On you I press,
With soft caress,
A little lovely dream.