Slumber Song for Sunalini

In a Bengalee metre

Where the golden, glowing

Champak-buds are blowing,

By the swiftly-flowing streams,

Now, when day is dying,

There are fairies flying

Scattering a cloud of dreams.

Slumber-spirits winging

Thro' the forest singing,

Flutter hither bringing soon,

Baby-visions sheeny

For my Sunalini . . .

Hush thee, O my pretty moon!

Sweet, the saints shall bless thee . . .

Hush, mine arms caress thee,

Hush, my heart doth press thee, sleep,

Till the red dawn dances

Breaking thy soft trances,

Sleep, my Sunalini, sleep!