Benjamin Britten
A Cradle Song
Sleep, sleep, beauty bright
Dreaming o'er 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

O! the cunning wiles that creep
In thy little heart asleep
When thy little heart does wake
Then the dreadful lightnings break

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