Lo, we may rest

Here on her cradling breast

In the wonderful time of the truce 0’ night, And sweet things that happened long ago, Softly and slow,

Will creep back to us in delight;

And our dreams may be

Compact of young melody,

Just such as under the Eden Tree,

’Mid the seraphim’s lullabies,

Eve’s might have been ere banished from Paradise.