the cottager to her infant - robert owens lyrics
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the days are cold, the nights are long
the north*wind sings a doleful song;
then hush again upon my breast;
all merry things are now at rest
save thee, my pretty love!
the kitten sleeps upon the hearth
the crickets long have ceased their mirth;
there’s nothing stirring in the house
save one wee, hungry, nibbling mouse
then why so busy thou?
nay! start not at that sparkling light;
’tis but the moon that shines so bright
on the window pane bedropped with rain:
then, little darling! sleep again
and wake when it is day
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