A CHILD'S EVENSONG

The sun is weary, for he ran

So far and fast to-day;

The birds are weary, for who sang

So many songs as they?

The bees and butterflies at last

Are tired out, for just think too

How many gardens through the day

Their little wings have fluttered through.

And so, as all tired people do,

They've gone to lay their sleepy heads

Deep deep in warm and happy beds.

The sun has shut his golden eye

And gone to sleep beneath the sky,

The birds and butterflies and bees

Have all crept into flowers and trees,

And all lie quiet, still as mice,

Till morning comes — like father's voice.

So Geoffrey, Owen, Phyllis, you

Must sleep away till morning too.

Close little eyes, down little heads,

And sleep — sleep — sleep in happy beds.