Sleep, little pigeon,
And fold your wings,
Little blue pigeon

With velvet eyes;
Sleep to the singing
Of mother-bird swinging

Swinging the nest
Where her little one lies.
Away out yonder

I see a star,
Silvery star
With a tinkling song;

To the soft dew falling
I hear it calling
Calling and tinkling

The night along.
In through the window
A moonbeam comes,

Little gold moonbeam
With misty wings;
All silently creeping,

It asks; "Is he sleeping
Sleeping and dreaming
While mother sings?"...

But sleep, little pigeon,
And fold your wings,
Little blue pigeon

With mournful eyes;
Am I not singing? --
See, I am swinging --

Swinging the nest
Where my darling lies.