“A Cradle Song”
William Blake

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.