(Eugene Field)
THE lights are all low, for the sun's in the west,
But where is the singer that lulled us to rest?
The singer was tiredthough day was not long
And when he had finished his slumber-time song
An angel re-echoed the lullaby lay
And hushed him to sleep at the close of that day.
Oh, rest, silent singer, till morning breaks through,
And wake to be welcomed by 'Little Boy Blue'!
