Poem William Blake

Cradle Song

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Sleep, sleep, beauty bright,
Dreaming in the joys of night;
Sleep, sleep; in thy sleep
Little sorrows sit and weep.

Sweet babe, in thy face
Soft desires I can trace,
Secret joys and secret smiles,
Little pretty infant wiles.

As thy softest limbs I feel
Smiles as of the morning steal
O’er thy cheek, and o’er thy breast
Where thy little heart doth rest.

O the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep!
When thy little heart doth wake,
Then the dreadful night shall break.

From thy cheek & from thy eye.
O’er the youthful harvests nigh.
Infant wiles & infant smiles
Heaven & Earth of peace beguiles.

Silent, Silent Night
I Heard an Angel Singing

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