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Robert Graves - The Promised Lullaby
Work rating: Low

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!"
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