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The
White Wampum
by
Emily Pauline Johnson
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THE
BIRDS’ LULLABY
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I
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SING
to us, cedars; the twilight is creeping
With shadowy garments, the
wilderness through;
All day we have carolled, and now would be sleeping,
So echo the anthems we warbled
to you;
While
we swing, swing,
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And
your branches sing,
And
we drowse to your dreamy whispering.
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II
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Sing
to us, cedars; the night-wind is sighing,
Is wooing, is pleading,
to hear you reply;
And here in your arms we are restfully lying,
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And
longing to dream to your soft lullaby;
While
we swing, swing,
And
your branches sing,
And
we drowse to your dreamy whispering. [Page
55]
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III
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to us, cedars; your voice is so lowly, |
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Your
breathing so fragrant, your branches so strong;
Our little nest-cradles are swaying so slowly,
While zephyrs are breathing
their slumberous song.
And
we swing, swing,
While
your branches sing,
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we drowse to your dreamy whispering. [Page
56] |
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