Last night, whiles that the curfew bell ben ringing,
I heard a moder to her dearie singing
“Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”;
And presently that chylde did cease hys weeping,
And on his moder’s breast did fall a-sleeping
To “lolly, lolly, lollyby.”
Faire ben the chylde unto his moder clinging,
But fairer yet the moder’s gentle singing—
“Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”;
And angels came and kisst the dearie smiling
In dreems while him hys moder ben beguiling
With “lolly, lolly, lollyby.”
Then to my harte saies I: “Oh, that thy beating
Colde be assuaged by some sweete voice repeating
‘Lollyby, lolly, lollyby’;
That like this lyttel chylde I, too, ben sleeping
With plaisaunt phantasies about me creeping,
To ‘lolly, lolly, lollyby’!”
Some time—mayhap when curfew bells are ringing—
A weary harte shall heare straunge voices singing
“Lollyby, lolly, lollyby”;
Some time, mayhap, with Chryst’s love round me streaming,
I shall be lulled into eternal dreeming,
With “lolly, lolly, lollyby.”