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Books Books 1 - 10 of 180 on Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow,....
" Sweet and low, sweet and low, Wind of the western sea, Low, low, breathe and blow, Wind of the western sea ! Over the rolling waters go, Come from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep... "
The Riverside Readers: Primer, [First-eighth reader] - Page 97
by James Hixon Van Sickle, Wilhelmina Seegmiller - 1911
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The Cambridge Book of Poetry and Song

Charlotte Fiske Bates - American poetry - 1832 - 882 pages
...from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me: While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to...silver moon: Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty cue, sleep, [From The Princess.] ASK ME NO MOKE. ASK me no more: the moon may draw the sea; The cloud...
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Proceedings of the American Academy of Arts and Sciences

American Academy of Arts and Sciences - Humanities - 1893
...the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me : While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. " Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to...Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep." From the lyrics we pass to an even more important part of Tennyson's work, to what our fathers might...
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Southern Literary Messenger, Volume 19

Literature - 1853
...to lliee soon, Rest, rest on mothers breast, Father will come to thee soon; Father will come to hi» babe in the nest, Silver sails all out of the west, Under the silver moon, Sleep my little one, «Itep my pretty one, sleep. Everybody who has read the Pickwick Papers (and \vho has not r) must remember...
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The Princess: A Medley

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1850 - 1850 - 177 pages
...the dropping moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to...Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. III. MOKN in the white wake of the morning star Came furrowing all the orient into gold. We rose, and...
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The Princess: A Medley

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - British literature - 1851 - 183 pages
...the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me : While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon ; Best, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in the...
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Thalatta: A Book for the Sea-side

Sea poetry - 1853 - 206 pages
...from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to...my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. ALFRED TBNNYSOJT. THE MARINER. YE winds that sweep the grove's green tops And kiss the mountains hoar, O softly...
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Thalatta: a book for the sea-side [verse, compiled by S. Longfellow].

Thalatta - 1853
...from the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to...will come to thee soon, Father will come to his babe in»the nest : Silver sails all out of the west Under the silver moon : Sleep, my little one, sleep,...
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The Southern literary messenger

1853
...blow, Blow him again to me, While my pretty one, while my pretty one sleeps. Sleep and rest, pleep nnd rest, Father will come to thee soon, Rest, rest on mother's breast, Father will cnme to thee soon; Fnther will come In his babe in the nest, Stiver sails all out of the west, 1853.]...
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Poems, Volume 2

Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1853
...the dying moon, and blow, Blow him again to me ; While my little one, while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon ; B«st, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee soon ; Father will come to his babe in...
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The princess; a medley

Alfred Tennyson (1st baron.) - 1847
...while my pretty one, sleeps. Sleep and rest, sleep and rest, Father will come to thee soon ; Best, rest, on mother's breast, Father will come to thee...Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep. III. MORN in the white wake of the morning star Came furrowing all the orient into gold. We rose, and...
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