(22 September 1847 - 27 November 1922 / London)

poet Alice Meynell
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Cradle-Song at Twilight

The child not yet is lulled to rest.
Too young a nurse, the slender Night
So laxly holds him to her breast
That throbs with flight.

He plays with her, and will not sleep.
For other playfellows she sighs;
An unmaternal fondness keep
Her alien eyes.

Submitted: Friday, January 03, 2003


Read poems about / on: child, sleep, night, song, children

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