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;