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: #363F3E
RGB: 54 63 62
RGB: 54 63 62
HEX: #637573
RGB: 99 117 115
RGB: 99 117 115
HEX: #9B0505
RGB: 155 5 5
RGB: 155 5 5
HEX: #8BA7A3
RGB: 139 167 163
RGB: 139 167 163
HEX: #B7DBD7
RGB: 183 219 215
RGB: 183 219 215
