LULLABY

LEEP, sleep, lovely white soul;

SLE

The little mouse cheeps plaintively, The night-bird in the chestnut treeThey sing together, bird and mouse, In starlight, in darkness, lonely, sweet, The wild notes and the faint notes meetSleep, sleep, lovely white soul.

Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul;

Amid the lilies floats the moth,

The mole along his galleries goeth
In the dark earth; the summer moon
Looks like a shepherd through the pane
Seeking his feeble lamp again—
Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul.

Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul;

Time comes to keep night-watch with thee,
Nodding with roses; and the sea
Saith "Peace! Peace!" amid his foam.
"O be still!”

The wind cries up the whispering hill—

Sleep, sleep, lovely white soul.

WALTER DE LA MARE

I

THE SONG OF SONGS

"The song of songs, which is Solomon's"

AM the rose of Sharon,

And the lily of the valleys.

As the lily among thorns,

So is my love among the daughters.

As the apple tree among the trees of the wood,
So is my beloved among the sons.

I sat down under his shadow with great delight,
And his fruit was sweet to my taste.
He brought me to the banqueting house,
And his banner over me was love.

I charge you, O ye daughters of Jerusalem,
By the roes, and by the hinds of the field,

That ye stir not up, or awake my beloved, till he

please.

The voice of my beloved!

Behold, he cometh leaping upon the mountains,

Skipping upon the hills.

My beloved is like a roe or a young hart;

Behold, he standeth behind our wall,

He looketh forth at the windows,
Shewing himself through the lattice.

My beloved spake,

And said unto me,

Rise up, my love, my fair one, and come away.

For, lo, the winter is past,

The rain is over and gone.

The flowers appear on the earth,

The time of the singing of birds is come,

And the voice of the turtle is heard in our land. The fig tree putteth forth her green figs,

And the vines with the tender grape

Give a good smell.

Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away.

My beloved is mine,

And I, am his;

He feedeth among the lilies

Until the day break and the shadows flee away, Turn, my beloved,

And be thou like a roe

Or a young hart upon the mountains of Bether.

SOLOMON

A

TO SLEEP

FLOCK of sheep that leisurely pass by

One after one; the sound of rain, and bees Murmuring; the fall of rivers, winds and seas, Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky:

I've thought of all by turns, and yet do lie
Sleepless; and soon the small birds' melodies
Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees,
And the first cuckoo's melancholy cry.

Even thus last night, and two nights more I lay,
And could not win thee, Sleep, by any stealth:
So do not let me wear tonight away:

Without thee what is all the morning's wealth?
Come, blessed barrier between day and day,
Dear mother of fresh thoughts and joyous health.
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH

THE SHEPHERDESS

HE walks—the lady of my delight—

SA shepherdess of sheep.

А

Her flocks are thoughts. She keeps them white;

She guards them from the steep;

She feeds them on the fragrant height,

And folds them in for sleep.

She roams maternal hills and bright,

Dark valleys safe and deep.

Into that tender breast at night

The chastest stars may peep.

She walks the lady of my delight

A shepherdess of sheep.

She holds her little thoughts in sight,
Though gay they run and leap.
She is so circumspect and right;
She has her soul to keep.

She walks-the lady of my delight-
A shepherdess of sheep.

ALICE MEYNELL