Classic Poem

The great red moon was swinging
Alow in the purple east;
The robins had ceased from singing,
The sounds of the day had ceased;
The golden sunset islands
Had faded into the sky,
When, warm from the seas of silence,
A wind of sleep came by.

It came so balmy and resting
That the tree-top breathed a kiss,
And a drowsy wood-bird, nesting,
Chirped a wee note of bliss;
It stole over silent thickets
As soft as an owl could fly,
And murmured to tiny crickets
The words of a lullaby.

Then slowly the sunset darkened;
The whispering trees were still,
And the hush of the woodland harkened
To a crying whippoorwill.
And the moon grew whiter, and by it
The shadows lay dark and deep—
But the fields were empty and quiet,
For the wind had fallen asleep.