WHEN all the weary flowers, <br />Worn out with sunlit hours, <br />Droop o'er the garden beds <br />Their little sleepy heads, <br />The dewy dusk on quiet wings comes stealing; <br />And, as the night descends, <br />The shadows troop like friends <br />To bring them healing. <br /> <br /> <br />So, weary of the light <br />Of life too full and bright, <br />We long for night to fall <br />To wrap us from it all; <br />Then death on dewy wings draws near and holds us, <br />And like a kind friend come <br />To children far from home, <br />With love enfolds us. <br /> <br /> <br />But when the night is done, <br />Fresh to the morning sun, <br />Their little faces yet <br />With night's sweet dewdrops wet, <br />The flowers awake to the new day's new graces; <br />And we, ah! shall we too <br />Turn to the daydawn new <br />Our tear-wet faces?<br /><br />Edith Nesbit<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/evening-song-4/
