'Tis the witching time of night, Orbed is the moon and bright, And the Stars they glisten, glisten, Seeming with bright eyes to listen. For what listen they? For a song and for a charm, See they glisten in alarm And the Moon is waxing warm To hear what I shall say. Moon keep wide thy golden ears Hearken Stars and hearken Spheres Hearken thou eternal Sky I sing an infant's Lullaby, O pretty Lullaby! Listen, Listen, listen, listen Glisten, glisten, glisten, glisten And hear my Lullaby! Though the Rushes that will make Its cradle still are in the lake, Though the linen that will be Its swathe, is on the cotton tree, Though the woollen that will keep It warm, is on the silly sheep; Listen Starlight, listen, listen Glisten, Glisten, glisten, glisten And hear my Lullaby! Child! I see thee! Child, I've found thee Midst of the quiet all around thee! Child, I see thee! Child, I spy thee And thy mother sweet is nigh thee!-- Child, I know thee! Child no more But a Poet _ever_more See, See the Lyre, The Lyre In a flame of fire Upon the little cradle's top Flaring, flaring, flaring Past the eyesight's bearing-- Awake it from its sleep, And see if it can keep Its eyes upon the blaze-- Amaze, Amaze! It stares, it stares, it stares It dares what no one dares It lifts its little hand into the flame Unharm'd, and on the strings Paddles a little tune and sings With dumb endeavour sweetly! Bard art thou completely! Little Child O' the western wild, Bard art thou completely!-- Sweetly, with dumb endeavour-- A Poet now or never! Little Child O' the western wild A Poet now or never! [October 16.]