Me let the tender office long engage

To rock the cradle of reposing age;

With lenient arts extend a mother's breath,

Make languor smile, and smooth the bed of death;

Explore the thought, explain the asking eye,

And keep awhile one parent from the sky.

Alexander Pope (1688-1744): Epistle to Dr. Arbuthnot. Prologue to the Satires. Line 408.

Backward, turn backward, O Time, in your flight!

Make me a child again, just for to-night!

Elizabeth Akers Allen (1832-1911): Rock me to sleep.

Solid men of Boston, banish long potations!

Solid men of Boston, make no long orations!

Charles Morris (1739-1832): Pitt and Dundas's Return to London from Wimbledon. American Song. From Lyra Urbanica.

But man, proud man,

Drest in a little brief authority,

Most ignorant of what he's most assured,

His glassy essence, like an angry ape,

Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven

As make the angels weep.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Measure for Measure. Act ii. Sc. 2.