The White Wampum

by Emily Pauline Johnson


 

THE BIRDS’ LULLABY


 

I

SING to us, cedars; the twilight is creeping
    With shadowy garments, the wilderness through;
All day we have carolled, and now would be sleeping,
    So echo the anthems we warbled to you;
                While we swing, swing,
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                And your branches sing,
        And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.

II

Sing to us, cedars; the night-wind is sighing,
    Is wooing, is pleading, to hear you reply;
And here in your arms we are restfully lying,
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    And longing to dream to your soft lullaby;
                While we swing, swing,
                And your branches sing,
        And we drowse to your dreamy whispering. [Page 55]

III

Sing to us, cedars; your voice is so lowly,
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    Your breathing so fragrant, your branches so strong;
Our little nest-cradles are swaying so slowly,
    While zephyrs are breathing their slumberous song.
                And we swing, swing,
                While your branches sing,
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        And we drowse to your dreamy whispering. [Page 56]