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: #060805
RGB: 6 8 5
RGB: 6 8 5
HEX: #680557
RGB: 104 5 87
RGB: 104 5 87
HEX: #310016
RGB: 49 0 22
RGB: 49 0 22
HEX: #9B3E84
RGB: 155 62 132
RGB: 155 62 132
HEX: #9EB0BC
RGB: 158 176 188
RGB: 158 176 188
