Sara Teasdale, comp. (1884–1933).
The Answering Voice: One Hundred Love Lyrics by Women. 1917. | | | | Rest | | By Irene Rutherford McLeod |
| | | AS a little child I come | |
| To be gathered to your breast | |
| So tired that my lips are dumb, | |
| So sad that my warm heart is numb: | |
| Belovèd, let me rest. | 5 |
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| Oh, how all the noises die, | |
| All the cruel voices cease, | |
| I can sleep when you are by, | |
| And I am too faint to cry: | |
| Here at last is peace. | 10 |
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| Hold me, nurse me, love me … so … | |
| Almost I could learn to weep! | |
| Hush, I feel my spirit grow … | |
| When you tire … let me go … | |
| I shall be … asleep. | 15 | | | |
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