Child-
O Mother, lay your hand on my brow!
O Mother, mother, where am I now?
Why is the room so gaunt and great?
Why am I lying awake so late?

Mother-
Fear not at all: the night is still.
Nothing is hear that means you ill-
Nothing but lamps the whole lawn through,
And never a child awake but you.

Child-
Mother, mother, speak low in my ear,
Some of the thing are so great and near,
Some are so small and far away,
I have a fear that i cannot say.
What have I done, and what do I fear,
And why are you crying, mother dear?

Mother-
Out in the city, sounds begin,
Thank the kind God, the carts come in!
An hour or two more and God is so kind,
The day shall be blue in the window blind,
Then shall my child go sweetly asleep,
And dream of the birds and the hills of sheep.