A Wintry Lullaby

Blow, wind, blow,

The fields are white with snow —

Sleeping daisies, deep and warm,

Cannot hear the Winter storm.

Freeze, air, freeze,

The rime is on the trees —

Sleeping buds within the bough,

Dream of spring and cuckoos now.

Turn, earth, turn,

The flames of life do burn —

Sleeping girl, my baby dove,

Knows no world but mother's love.