Lullaby

Now the day is done,

Now the shepherd

Drives his white flocks from the sky;

Now the flowers

On their mother's breast,

Hushed by her low lullaby.

Now the glowworms glance,

Now the fireflies dance,

Under fern-boughs green and high;

And the western

To the forest

Chants a tuneful lullaby.

Now 'mid shadows

Falls blessed sleep,

Like dew from the summer sky;

And the whole earth dreams,

In the moon's soft beams,

While night breathes a lullaby.

Now, birdlings, rest,

In your wind-rocked nest,

Unscared by the owl's shrill cry;

For with folded

Little Brier swings,

And singeth your lullaby.