Explore "The Promised Lullaby" by Robert Graves on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Can I find True-Love a gift
In this dark hour to restore her,
When body's vessel breaks adrift, / When hope and beauty fade before her? / But in this plight I cannot think / Of song or music, that would grieve her, / Or toys or meat or snow-cooled drink; / Not this way can her sadness leave her. / She lies and frets in childish fever, / All I can do is but to cry / "Sleep, sleep, True-Love and lullaby!"
Lullaby, and sleep again. / Two bright eyes through the window stare, / A nose is flattened on the pane / And infant fingers fumble there. / "Not yet, not yet, you lovely thing, / But count and come nine weeks from now, / When winter's tail has lost the sting, / When buds come striking through the bough, / Then here's True-Love will show you how / Her name she won, will hush your cry / With "Sleep, my baby! Lullaby!"