pluck the mandolin of treetops tender string the harp with shimmering light off morning dew beat the earth like drums with moonbeams splendor stir the skies to sing so sweetly eternal ever new sound the pipes and take me back to the days of chivalry in years of yore crash of ocean wave her cymbol attack dance on til dawn upon the sanded shore in wood and meadow, ocean or on air twined in layers of richest red plaited within mother natures hair soft the fern are lain for my bed sing to me mother, warble like the lark i shall lay my head down, my eyes close soft lull me to slumber in the sultry dark i shall fly in dreams toward the stars aloft