BABY'S EVENING SONG by EDITH MATILDA THOMAS

Now the little white sheep,
And the little black sheep--
They have all gone to sleep
In the fold.

Nothing is black,
Nothing is white,
When the kind old Night--
Hides them all out of sight
In the fold.

And the little children too,
Must do as little lambs do;
They must all go to sleep
In the fold.

Nothing is hungry,
Nothing is cold.
When it once goes to sleep
In the fold.

And the swift bright things
That fly about on wings,
Round the fields and through the skies--
They have shut their cunning eyes,
And have all gone to rest
In the nest;

Every little bird's head
Laid upon a feather-bed,
Underneath its mother's breast!
All the swift bright things,--
They have all gone to rest
In the nest.

And the little children too,
Must do as little birds do:
They must all go to rest
In the nest.

Nothing unkind
Can the baby find,
When she once goes to rest
In the nest.

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