VILLANELLE OF SUNSET

Come hither, Child! and rest: This is the end of day, Behold the weary West!

Sleep rounds with equal zest Man's toil and children's play: Come hither, Child! and rest.

My white bird, seek thy nest, Thy drooping head down lay: Behold the weary West!

Now are the flowers confest Of slumber: sleep, as they! Come hither, Child! and rest.

Now eve is manifest, And homeward lies our way: Behold the weary West!

Tired flower! upon my breast, I would wear thee alway: Come hither, Child! and rest; Behold, the weary West!