Classic Poem

After the day's long playing,
Tired as tired can be,
My baby girl comes saying,
“Papa, will you rock me?”

The busy works of daytime
Allure her now no more;
The books and toys of playtime
Are scattered round the floor.

Off now with shoe and stocking,
Off with the crumpled dress:
She's ready now for rocking,
For crooning and caress.

And slowly sinking, sinking,
The night comes down the skies;
While drooping, opening, winking,
Sleep settles on her eyes.

She does not fear the sleeping:
Out o'er the sea of dark,
Close held in papa's keeping,
She drifts in her frail bark.

No matter for the morrow,
Enough that papa knows;
With smile undimmed by sorrow,
Out in the dark she goes.

So should it be with dying:
Drop earthly cares and fears;
In Father's arms you're lying;
Look up with smiles, not tears.

You know not of the waking?
Be not with fear beguiled;
For, when the morning's breaking,
He'll not forget his child.