Little Blue Pigeon

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Sleep,little pigeon, and fold your wings,
Little blue pigeon with velvet eyes;
Sleep to the singing of mother-bird swinging,
Swinging the nest where her little ones lies.
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Away out yonder I see a star,
Slivery star with a twinkling song;
To the soft dew falling I hear it calling,
Calling and tinkling the night along.
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In through the window a moonbeam comes,
Little gold moonbeam with misty wings;
All silently creeping, it asks:“Is he sleeping,
Sleeping and dreaming while mother sings?”
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Up from the sea there float the sob
Of the waves that are breaking upon the shore,
As though they were groaning in anguish, and moaning;
Bemoaning the ship that shall come no more.
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But sleep, little pigeon, and fold your wings,
Little blue pigeon with mournful eyes;
Am I not singing? See, I am swinging;
Swinging the nest where my darling lies.

©2018

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