You cannot count the blue-bells 
That are upon the heath, — 
The ferns are tall and stately, 
The bells hang underneath; 
But I can count the tassels 
As big as flowers of clover 
That hang on baby's curtain,
The curtain that hangs over.

And when I rock the cradle 
The tassels swing and swing, 
And they make fairy music,
And baby hears them ring : 
Ding-dong in the morning,
And in the evening, too, 
Rhyme, chime, in fairy-time, 
Baby, dear, for you.