The Cradle of Gold
I'd rock my own sweet childie to restIn a cradle of gold on the bough of the willow,To the shoheen ho! of the Wind of the WestAnd the lulla lo! of the blue sea billow.Sleep, baby dear!Sleep without fear!Mother is here beside your pillow.
I'd put my own sweet childie to floatIn a silver boat on the beautiful river,Where a shoheen! whisper the white cascadesAnd a lulla lo! the green flags shiver.Sleep, baby dear!Sleep without fear!Mother is here with you for ever!
Shoheen ho! to the rise and fallOf mother's bosom, 'tis sleep has bound you!And oh, my child, what cosier nestFor rosier rest could love have found you?Sleep, baby dear!Sleep without fear!Mother's two arms are close around you!
I wish the shepherd's pet were mine,I wish the shepherd's pet were mine,I wish the shepherd's pet were mine,The pretty white lamb in the clover.And oh! I hail, I hail thee,And oh! I hail, I hail thee,The love of my heart for ever thou art,Thou little pet of thy mother.
I wish that scores of kine were mine,I wish that scores of kine were mine,I wish that scores of kine were mine,And Kathleen, the love of her mother.And oh! I hail, I hail thee,And oh! I hail, I hail thee,The love of my heart for ever thou art,Thou little pet of thy mother.
Goad her, and whip her, and drive,The old woman's little brown mare,Stand up on the plough, look alive,And see if our dinner is there.
The corn is a-reaping,Goad her and whip her and drive.The stooks are a-heaping,Goad her and whip her and drive.The corn is a-binding,Goad her and whip her and drive.In the mill it is grinding,Goad her and whip her and drive.We soon shall be feeding,Goad her and whip her and drive.For the flour is a-kneading,Goad her and whip her and drive.The bread is a-baking,Goad her and whip her and drive.Our dinner we are taking,--She's the best little mare alive!
Whistle and shout with zest!The little brown mare is good!Unyoke her, and give her a rest,While we're stretching and getting our food.
Words in this poem
- billow n.
- A great wave or surge of the sea or other water, caused usually by violent wind. [Cf. Icel. bylgja billow, Dan. bölge, Sw. bölja; akin to MHG. bulge billow, bag, and to E. bulge. See Bulge.]
- cosier n.
- A tailor who botches his work. [Cf. OF. coussier maker of mattresses; or couseor tailor, fr. OF. & F. coudre, p. p. cousu to sew, fr. L. consuere to sew together; con- + seure to sew. See Sew ]
- rosier n.
- A rosebush; roses, collectively. [F., fr. L. rosarius of roses. Cf. Rosary.]
- shall v. i.
- To owe; to be under obligation for. [OE. shal, schal, imp. sholde, scholde, AS. scal, sceal, I am obliged, imp. scolde, sceolde, inf. sculan; akin to OS. skulan, pres. skal, imp. skolda, D. zullen,]
- zest n.
- A piece of orange or lemon peel, or the aromatic oil which may be squeezed from such peel, used to give flavor to liquor, etc. [F. zeste, probably fr. L. schistos split, cleft, divided, Gr. Schism.]
- unyoke v. t.
- To loose or free from a yoke. [1st pref. un- + yoke.]
Definitions and etymologies from Webster's Unabridged Dictionary, 1913.
About this text
The Cradle of Gold is in the public domain. This text is taken from The Poem-Book of the Gael Translations from Irish Gaelic Poetry into English Prose and Verse, Project Gutenberg ebook #46917; the transcription's header, footer and licence were removed and nothing else was changed. You may copy, print and reuse it freely.
Cite as: Eleanor Hull, The Cradle of Gold, in The Poem-Book of the Gael (1912), text of Project Gutenberg ebook #46917, Laurel, https://laurelpoetry.com/poem/hull-gael/the-cradle-of-gold.html, id L11801.
Form and metre
The Cradle of Gold is 61 lines in 8 stanzas. The metre is trochaic tetrameter, measured from the stress the words themselves fix (confidence 72%). 93% of its stressed syllables fall where the metre puts the beat. The lines average 7.7 syllables. 17 lines end on an unstressed syllable, a feminine ending. 10% of the lines run on without a stop at the line end.
See other poems in trochaic tetrameter.
Measured by Laurel's pipeline, not copied from a handbook: how stress and metre are counted, how rhyme is lettered, how a drifted rhyme is found. Where the dictionary cannot confirm a rhyme the letter is withheld, not guessed.
Rhyme words, stanza by stanza
The word that ends each line, lettered by the rhyme it makes; a dash is a line whose rhyme the dictionary could not confirm.
- 1 A-ABCCB restA · willow · westA · billowB · dearC · fearC · pillowB
- 2 -A-ABB- float · riverA · cascades · shiverA · dearB · fearB · ever
- 3 -A-ABBA fall · youA · nest · youA · dearB · fearB · youA
- 4 AAA-BB-- mineA · mineA · mineA · clover · theeB · theeB · art · mother
- 5 AAABCC-B mineA · mineA · mineA · motherB · theeC · theeC · art · motherB
- 6 ABAB driveA · mareB · aliveA · thereB
- 7 ABABCBCBDBDBEBEB reapingA · driveB · heapingA · driveB · bindingC · driveB · grindingC · driveB · feedingD · driveB · kneadingD · driveB · bakingE · driveB · takingE · aliveB
- 8 A-A- zestA · good · restA · food
Scansion, line by line
Each line with its syllable count and the stresses the words themselves fix: / stressed, ˘ unstressed, · a syllable the word leaves free and the metre decides. Read against trochaic tetrameter. How this is done.
| Line | Syl. | Stress |
|---|---|---|
| I'd rock my own sweet childie to rest | 9 | ········· |
| In a cradle of gold on the bough of the willow, | 13 | ··/˘·······/· |
| To the shoheen ho! of the Wind of the West | 11 | ··········· |
| And the lulla lo! of the blue sea billow. | 11 | ·········/˘ |
| Sleep, baby dear! | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Sleep without fear! | 4 | ···· |
| Mother is here beside your pillow. | 9 | /˘··˘/·/˘ |
| I'd put my own sweet childie to float | 9 | ········· |
| In a silver boat on the beautiful river, | 11 | ··/˘···/˘/˘ |
| Where a shoheen! whisper the white cascades | 10 | ····/˘··˘/ |
| And a lulla lo! the green flags shiver. | 10 | ········/˘ |
| Sleep, baby dear! | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Sleep without fear! | 4 | ···· |
| Mother is here with you for ever! | 9 | /˘·····/˘ |
| Shoheen ho! to the rise and fall | 8 | ········ |
| Of mother's bosom, 'tis sleep has bound you! | 10 | ·/˘/˘····· |
| And oh, my child, what cosier nest | 8 | ·····/˘· |
| For rosier rest could love have found you? | 9 | ·/˘······ |
| Sleep, baby dear! | 4 | ·/˘· |
| Sleep without fear! | 4 | ···· |
| Mother's two arms are close around you! | 9 | /˘······· |
| I wish the shepherd's pet were mine, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| I wish the shepherd's pet were mine, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| I wish the shepherd's pet were mine, | 8 | ···/˘··· |
| The pretty white lamb in the clover. | 9 | ·/˘····/˘ |
| And oh! I hail, I hail thee, | 7 | ······· |
| And oh! I hail, I hail thee, | 7 | ······· |
| The love of my heart for ever thou art, | 9 | ······/·· |
| Thou little pet of thy mother. | 8 | ·/˘···/˘ |
| I wish that scores of kine were mine, | 8 | ········ |
| I wish that scores of kine were mine, | 8 | ········ |
| I wish that scores of kine were mine, | 8 | ········ |
| And Kathleen, the love of her mother. | 9 | ·˘/····/˘ |
| And oh! I hail, I hail thee, | 7 | ······· |
| And oh! I hail, I hail thee, | 7 | ······· |
| The love of my heart for ever thou art, | 9 | ······/·· |
| Thou little pet of thy mother. | 8 | ·/˘···/˘ |
| Goad her, and whip her, and drive, | 7 | ······· |
| The old woman's little brown mare, | 8 | ··/˘/˘·· |
| Stand up on the plough, look alive, | 8 | ······˘/ |
| And see if our dinner is there. | 8 | ···//˘·· |
| The corn is a-reaping, | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Goad her and whip her and drive. | 7 | ······· |
| The stooks are a-heaping, | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Goad her and whip her and drive. | 7 | ······· |
| The corn is a-binding, | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Goad her and whip her and drive. | 7 | ······· |
| In the mill it is grinding, | 7 | ·····/˘ |
| Goad her and whip her and drive. | 7 | ······· |
| We soon shall be feeding, | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Goad her and whip her and drive. | 7 | ······· |
| For the flour is a-kneading, | 8 | ··/˘··/˘ |
| Goad her and whip her and drive. | 7 | ······· |
| The bread is a-baking, | 6 | ····/˘ |
| Goad her and whip her and drive. | 7 | ······· |
| Our dinner we are taking,-- | 8 | /˘/˘··/˘ |
| She's the best little mare alive! | 8 | ···/˘·˘/ |
| Whistle and shout with zest! | 6 | /˘···· |
| The little brown mare is good! | 7 | ·/˘···· |
| Unyoke her, and give her a rest, | 8 | ˘/······ |
| While we're stretching and getting our food. | 9 | ··/˘·/˘/· |
The reader shows the same poem with its rhymes coloured and a stress row above each line, the notes beside their stanzas, and any word's definition on a tap; the analysis page takes the whole book apart. How every part of this site was made.