if we rightly consider,
every green tree is far more glorious
than if it were made of gold and silver.
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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 and rest, sleep and rest,
Father will come to thee soon;
Rest, rest, on mother's breast, Father 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, my pretty
one, sleep.
HEX: #473B3B
RGB: 71 59 59
RGB: 71 59 59
HEX: #EB6A6A
RGB: 235 106 106
RGB: 235 106 106
HEX: #ED1F3E
RGB: 237 31 62
RGB: 237 31 62
HEX: #CFBD8B
RGB: 207 189 139
RGB: 207 189 139
HEX: #DFE627
RGB: 223 230 39
RGB: 223 230 39
