Ii

Unloose the watch-dog from his chain: The first stars wink their drowsy eyes:

A sheep-bell tinkles in the lane, And where the shadow deepest lies A lamp makes bright the kitchen pane:-- The whippoorwill is calling, “Whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will,” Where the berry-blooms are falling On the rill; The first faint stars are springing, And the whippoorwill is singing, “Whip-poor-will, whip-poor-will;” Softly still The whippoorwill is singing, “Whip-poor-will.”