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The sky is dark and the hills are white
As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night,
And this is the song the storm-king sings As over the world his cloak he flings:
"Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;"
He rustles his wings and gruffly sings:
"Sleep, little one, sleep."
On yonder mountain-side a vine
Clings at the foot of a mother pine;
The tree bends over the trembling thing, And only the vine can hear her sing: "Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep; What shall you fear when I am here?
Sleep, little one, sleep."
The king may sing in his bitter flight, The tree may croon to the vine to-night,But the little snowflake at my breast Liketh the song I sing the best,—
Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;
Weary thou art, anext my heart
Sleep, little one, sleep.
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more winter / christmas themed posts soonπππππ
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