I

    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,
                    And your branches sing,
            And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.

II

    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,
        And longing to dream to your soft lullaby;
                    While we swing, swing,
                    And your branches sing,
            And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.

III

    Sing to us, cedars; your voice is so lowly,
        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,
            And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.

This poem is in the public domain.