Text: Emily Pauline Johnson

Sing to us, cedars; the twilight is creeping
     With shadowy garments, the wilderness through;
All day we have caroled, 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;
Our little nest-cradles are swaying so slowly,
     While zephyrs are breathing their slumberous song.
               And we swing, swing,
               While your branches sing,
         And we drowse to your dreamy whispering.