 | Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds |  |
40
EVENING.
Little girl, it is time to retire to your rest,
The sheep are put into the fold,
The linnet forsakes us, and flies to her nest,
To shelter her young from the cold.
The sheep are put into the fold,
The linnet forsakes us, and flies to her nest,
To shelter her young from the cold.
The cwl has flown out of his lonely retreat,
And screams through the tall shady trees;
The nightingale takes on the hawthorn her seat,
And sings to the soft dying breeze.
And screams through the tall shady trees;
The nightingale takes on the hawthorn her seat,
And sings to the soft dying breeze.
The sun appears now to have finish'd his race,
And sinks once again to his rest;
But though we no longer can see his bright face,
He leaves a gold streak in the west.
And sinks once again to his rest;
But though we no longer can see his bright face,
He leaves a gold streak in the west.
41
Little girl, have you finish'd your daily employ
With industry, patience, and care?
If so, lay your head on your pillow with joy,
And sleep away peacefully there.
With industry, patience, and care?
If so, lay your head on your pillow with joy,
And sleep away peacefully there.
The moon through your curtains shall cheerfully peep,
Her silver beams rest on your eyes;
And mild evening breezes shall fan you to sleep,
Till bright morning bid you arise.
Her silver beams rest on your eyes;
And mild evening breezes shall fan you to sleep,
Till bright morning bid you arise.
| Jane and Ann Taylor: Original Poems for Infant Minds | |