Evening And Morning

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Over the roof, like burnished men,
The stars tramp high.
You blink the fire blinks back again
With a cock's red eye.
Lay your book away to doze,
Say your silly prayers,
See that nothing grabs your toes
And run upstairs!

Sandman eyes and heavy head,
Sleep comes soon,
Pouring on your quiet bed
The great, cool moon.
Nod's green wheel of moss turns round,
Dripping dreams and peace,
Gentle as a pigeon's sound,
Soft as fleece.

Think of warm sheep shuffling home,
Stones sunk deep,
Bees inside a honeycomb—
Sleep—Sleep.
Smile as when young Una smiled,
Hard and sweet and gay,
Bitter saint, fantastic child,
Fold your wings away.

Dawn, the owl, is fluttering
At Day's bright bars.
Night, the lame man, puttering,
Puffs out the stars.
Wake! and hear an airy shout
Crack the egg of cloud,
And see the golden bird creep out,
Ruffling and proud.

© Stephen Vincent Benet