I <br /> <br />Sing to us, cedars; the twilight is creeping <br />With shadowy garments, the wilderness through; <br />All day we have carolled, and now would be sleeping, <br />So echo the anthems we warbled to you; <br />While we swing, swing, <br />And your branches sing, <br />And we drowse to your dreamy whispering. <br /> <br />II <br /> <br />Sing to us, cedars; the night-wind is sighing, <br />Is wooing, is pleading, to hear you reply; <br />And here in your arms we are restfully lying, <br />And longing to dream to your soft lullaby; <br />While we swing, swing, <br />And your branches sing, <br />And we drowse to your dreamy whispering. <br /> <br />III <br /> <br />Sing to us, cedars; your voice is so lowly, <br />Your breathing so fragrant, your branches so strong; <br />Our little nest-cradles are swaying so slowly, <br />While zephyrs are breathing their slumberous song. <br />And we swing, swing, <br />While your branches sing, <br />And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.<br /><br />Emily Pauline Johnson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-birds-lullaby/
