| Villanelle of Sunset |
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Come hither, Child! and rest:
This is the end of day,
Behold the weary West!
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Sleep rounds with equal zest
Man's toil and children's play;
Come hither, Child! and rest.
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My white bird, seek thy nest,
Thy drooping head down lay:
Behold the weary West!
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Now are the flowers confest
Of slumber: sleep, as they!
Come hither, Child! and rest.
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Now eve is manifest,
And homeward lies our way:
Behold the weary West!
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Tired flower I upon my breast,
I would wear thee alway:
Come hither, Child! and rest;
Behold, the weary West!
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