Eugene Field Poems >>
Lollyby, Lolly, Lollyby

Last night, whiles that the curfew bell ben ringing,
I heard a moder to her dearie singing
‘Lollyby, lolly, lollyby.’
And presently that chylde did cease hys weeping,
And on his moder’s breast did fall a-sleeping,
To ‘lolly, lolly, lollyby.’

Faire ben the chylde unto his moder clinging,
But fairer yet the moder’s gentle singing,–
‘Lollyby, lolly, lollyby.’
And angels came and kisst the dearie smiling
In dreems while him hys moder ben beguiling
With ‘lolly, lolly, lollyby!’

Then to my harte saies I, ‘Oh, that thy beating
Colde be assuaged by some swete voice repeating
‘Lollyby, lolly, lollyby;’
That like this lyttel chylde I, too, ben sleeping
With plaisaunt phantasies about me creeping,
To ‘lolly, lolly, lollyby!”

Sometime–mayhap when curfew bells are ringing–
A weary harte shall heare straunge voices singing,
‘Lollyby, lolly, lollyby;’
Sometime, mayhap, with Chrysts love round me streaming,
I shall be lulled into eternal dreeming
With ‘lolly, lolly, lollyby.’

(Eugene Field)

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