Monday, February 18, 2013

Swing Low

Swing low, sweet summer breeze.
Let your voice in the willows lull me to sleep.
Let your soft, gentle motion continue to keep
my hammock a-swingin'
that the one in my arms might go right on dreamin'.
O, keep my head cool; may I not be a fool-
on the wings of the wind cometh peace.
.
Swing high, carriage of hemp-rope and wood.
May I love all my children as a good father should.
May I ne'er wear a mask or a blindfold or hood-
may I see with my eyes.
May I push them and swing them up, up to the skies!
O, the clouds are their playthings, the stars stand in waiting-
I would get them the moon if I could.
.
Swing over, white streak in the deep blue night sky.
You inspire the nations, though I still don't know why.
You are not a bright star that has learned how to fly;
you're a space-rock that's burning.
But I find in my heart an insatiable yearning
to burn next to you,
if we fall, then it's true-Even the Beautiful die.

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