Evening

It is the hour of evening When nature is at rest: Each weary bird is sleeping Within its pleasant nest; The bee hath ceased its humming, The fish no longer springs, Even the happy butterfly Closeth its shining wings. The pretty flowers are lying Half hidden in the grass; They cannot hear our footsteps Or our voices as we pass. For all their darling blossoms Are shut in slumber deep, Just like the eyes of children When they are fast asleep! The little stars are twinkling, See how they shine and shake; The little stars are sleepy, They cannot keep awake. The moon has hidden from us, She is so very proud; But I know that she is sleeping Behind yon silver cloud. It is the hour of evening, As all creation feels; The world is very beautiful While slumber o'er it steals. No sound profanes the silence Of its unbroken peace, But the flowing of the water That can never, never cease. The flowing of the water Is a very sleepy sound; The lullaby of nature, With silence all around; The music of the night-time, It stealeth to repose. The never resting water, How sleepily it flows!