Cradle Song • William Blake

Sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming in the joys of NIGHT;
Sleep, sleep;
in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and
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 night shall break.