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: #490C29
RGB: 73 12 41
RGB: 73 12 41
HEX: #A82A38
RGB: 168 42 56
RGB: 168 42 56
HEX: #D96B16
RGB: 217 107 22
RGB: 217 107 22
HEX: #9FAA30
RGB: 159 170 48
RGB: 159 170 48
HEX: #4CB4D9
RGB: 76 180 217
RGB: 76 180 217
