The sky is dark and the hills are white br As the storm-king speeds from the north to-night, br And this is the song the storm-king sings, br As over the world his cloak he flings: br "Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep;" br He rustles his wings and gruffly sings: br "Sleep, little one, sleep." br br On yonder mountain-side a vine br Clings at the foot of a mother pine; br The tree bends over the trembling thing, br And only the vine can hear her sing: br "Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep; br What shall you fear when I am here? br Sleep, little one, sleep." br br The king may sing in his bitter flight, br The tree may croon to the vine to-night, br But the little snowflake at my breast br Liketh the song I sing the best,-- br Sleep, sleep, little one, sleep; br Weary thou art, anext my heart br Sleep, little one, sleep.