There is a temperate zone in the mind, between luxurious indolence and exacting work; and it is to this region, just between laziness and labor, that summer reading belongs.
Henry Ward Beecher
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The Coventry Carol
Lullay, Thou little tiny Child
By, by, lully, lullay
Lullay, Thou little tiny Child
By, by, lully, lullay
O sisters too, how may we do
For to preserve this day
This poor youngling for whom we sing
By, by, lully, lullay
Herod the king, in his raging
Charged he hath this day
His men of might, in his own sight
All young children to slay
That woe is me, poor Child for Thee
And ever morn and day
For thy parting neither say nor sing
By, by, lully, lullay