I said to my soul, be still, and wait without hope/ For hope would be hope for the wrong thing; wait without love,/ For love would be love of the wrong thing; there is yet faith/ But the faith and the love and the hope are all in the waiting.
[T.S. Eliot]

This also (maybe more etymologially accurately) goes by “Isle au Haut,” which is French for “island on the heights.” It was taught to me by Liz and Rachel Winter, whose mother, Penny, used to sing them to sleep with it. And in Maine, where Liz and Rachel spent many of their growing-up years, it’s called Islehaut. (Click and then click again.)

Islehaut Lullabye

The words:

If I could give you three things
I would give you these
Song and laughter and a wooden home
On the shining seas

When you see old Islehaut
Rising in the dawn
You will run in yellow fields
In the morning sun

Do you hear what the sails are saying
In the wind’s dark song
Throw sadness to the wind
Blow to lee and gone

When you see old Islehaut
Rising in the dawn
You will run in yellow fields
In the morning sun

Sleep now, the moon is high
And the wind blows cold
For you are sad and young
And the sea is old

When you see old Islehaut
Rising in the dawn
You will run in yellow fields
In the morning sun