Classic Poem

All pain, all sorrow, seem to fall
Behind us infinitely far,
What time the sleepy robins call
At Twilight's dusky bar.

Lay down your head upon my breast,
O rosy nephew golden-curled;
Boys, birds, and flowers hush to rest,
So weary grows the world.

As slowly as the branches wave,
Singing, I rock you to and fro;
So tune be glad, if words are grave
The baby will not know.

Far off and faint the chirpings sound,
Pale lights gleam out through dark'ning blue,
Soft arms of silence fold us round.
As mine are folding you.

Small voice that twitters like the birds,
Grey eyes that hold the light of stars,
Too sleepy we for tune or words;
Let down the dreamland bars!