138
EVENING SONG OF THE WEARY.
Father of Heaven and Earth!
I bless thee for the night,
The soft, still night!
The holy pause of care and mirth,
Of sound and light!
Now, far in glade and dell,
Flower-cup, and bud, and bell,
Have shut around the sleeping woodlark's nest—
The bee's long murmuring toils are done.
And I, the o'erwearied one,
