Sleep, sleep, my little baby dear, Thee shall no want or pain come near; Sleep softly on thy downy nest, Or on this lace-veiled mother-breast.
Thy cradle is all silken lined, Wrought roses on thy curtains twined, Warm woolly blankets o'er thee spread, With soft white pillows for thy head.
Much gold those little hands shall hold, And wealth about thy life shall fold, And thou shalt see nor pain nor strife, Nor the low ills of common life.
These little feet shall never tread Except on paths soft-carpeted, And all life's flowers in wreaths shall twine To deck that darling head of thine.
Thou shalt have overflowing measure Of wealth and joy and peace and pleasure, And thou shalt be right charitable With all the crumbs that leave thy table.
And thou shalt praise God every day For His good gifts that come thy way, And again thank Him, and again, That thou art not as other men.
For 'midst thy wealth thou wilt recall-- 'Tis to God's grace thou owest it all; And when all's spent that life has given, Thou'lt have a golden home in heaven.
Sleep, little baby, sleep, Though the wind is cruel and cold, And my shawl that I've wrapped thee in Is old and ragged and thin; And my hand is too frozen to hold-- Yet my bosom's still warm--so creep Close to thy mother, and sleep!
Sleep, little baby, and rest, Though we wander alone through the night, And there is no food for me, No shelter for me and thee. Through the windows red fires shine bright, And tables show, heaped with the best-- But there's naught for us there--so rest.
Sleep, you poor little thing! Just as pretty and dear As any fine lady's child. Oh, but my heart grows wild!-- Is it worth while to stay here? What good thing from life will spring For you--you poor little thing?
Sleep, you poor little thing! Mine, my treasure, my own-- I clasp you, I hold you close, My darling, my bird, my rose! Rich mothers have hearts like stone, Or else some help they would bring To you--you poor little thing!
Sleep, little baby, sleep-- If some good, rich mother would take My dear, I would kiss thee, and then Never come near thee again-- Not though my heart should break! I could leave thee, dear, for thy sake-- For the river is dark and deep, And gives sleep, little baby, sleep!