Author Samuel J. Imber Sleep, my child, softly fall asleep, door and gate are bolted; by your cradle Good Fortune stands fanning with white wings . Sleep, my child, you will understand when you grow older that Good Fortune was shedding tears at your cradle . Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments