Baby's brain is tired of thinking Of the Wherefore and the Whence; Baby's precious eyes are blinking With incipient somnolence. Little hands are weary turning Heavy leaves of lexicon; Little nose is fretted learning How to keep its glasses on. Baby knows the laws of nature Are beneficent and wise; His medulla oblongata Bids my darling close his eyes. And his pneumogastrics tell him Quietude is always best When his little cerebellum Needs recuperative rest. Baby must have relaxation, Let the world go wrong or right-- Sleep, my darling, leave Creation To its chances for the night. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MARY AND GABRIEL by RUPERT BROOKE THE JACQUERIE: SONG. THE HOUND by SIDNEY LANIER STANZAS ON THE DEATH OF THE PRINCESS CHARLOTTE by BERNARD BARTON A DAISY FROM THE PARTHENON by CHARLOTTE FISKE BATES RAMBLE OF THE GODS THROUGH BIRMINGHAM, SELECTION by JAMES BISSET ABSENCE by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES A RHAPSODY OF LIFE'S PROGRESS by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING OLD AND NEW; THE CENTURY ASSOCIATION, 1847-1897 by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER |