VILLANELLE OF SUNSET

Come hither, Child! and rest:

This is the end of day,

Behold the weary West!

Sleep rounds with equal zest

Man's toil and children's play:

Come hither, Child! and rest.

My white bird, seek thy nest,

Thy drooping head down lay:

Behold the weary West!

Now are the flowers confest

Of slumber: sleep, as they!

Come hither, Child! and rest.

Now eve is manifest,

And homeward lies our way:

Behold the weary West!

Tired flower! upon my breast,

I would wear thee alway:

Come hither, Child! and rest;

Behold, the weary West!