The moon burns soft behind the hill;
Sleep, little rosebud, sleep.
I hear the plaintive whippoorwill;
Sleep, little rosebud, sleep.
Its throat is mellow with a lay
I never heard before today.
I wonder what grieves its heart away.
The night winds rustle on the hill;
Sleep, little rosebud, sleep.

The stars are shining for the morn;
Sleep, little rosebud, sleep.
The night another morn has born;
Sleep, little rosebud, sleep.
The stars gleam on another grave,
The dews another tombstone lave.
Where larkspur bloomed but yesterday
The night hangs pressing on the morn;
Sleep, little rosebud, sleep.

The winds have sobbed the stars to rest;
Sleep, little rosebud, sleep.
The whippoorwill sleeps within its nest;
Sleep, little rosebud, sleep.
Two little teeth begin to show.
Two little eyes give back the glow
That beamed on me one year ago.
Baby's sobs would break her rest;
Sleep, little rosebud, sleep.