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: #383C3F
RGB: 56 60 63
RGB: 56 60 63
HEX: #DA8C7F
RGB: 218 140 127
RGB: 218 140 127
HEX: #BF2F62
RGB: 191 47 98
RGB: 191 47 98
HEX: #7BAC8E
RGB: 123 172 142
RGB: 123 172 142
HEX: #62FF9C
RGB: 98 255 156
RGB: 98 255 156
