Cradle-Song at Twilight
The child not yet is lulled to rest.
   Too young a nurse, the slender Night
So laxly holds him to her breast
   That throbs with flight.
He plays with her, and will not sleep.
   For other playfellows she sighs;
An unmaternal fondness keep
   Her alien eyes.

Webpage © 2001 ELC
Lane Core Jr. (
Created April 11, 2001; not revised.