Sing to us, cedars; the twilight is creeping
    With shadowy garments, the wilderness   through;
All day we have carolled, and now would be sleeping,
    So echo the anthems we warbled to you;
               While we swing, swing,
               And your branches sing,
        And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.                                  

Sing to us, cedars; the night-wind is sighing,
    Is wooing, is pleading, to hear you reply;
And here in your arms we are restfully lying,
    And longing to dream to your soft lullaby;
               While we swing, swing,
               And your branches sing.
        And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.                    

Sing to us, cedars; your voice is so lowly,
    Your breathing so fragrant, your branches so strong;
Our little nest-cradles are swaying so slowly,
    While zephyrs are breathing their slumberous song.
               And we swing, swing,
               While your branches sing,
        And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.