Читать книгу Baby-Land - Almira Louisa Corey Mrs. Frink - Страница 13

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Sweet is summer’s breeze

Through the leafy trees,

Where the honeysuckles grow,

And the violets below

Open wide their bright blue eyes,

Looking towards the sunny skies.

Sleep, while gentle south winds blow

Over blossoms white as snow.

Now the sunset bird

By his trill has stirred

All the evening songsters near;

What a warbling choir is here!

And the chorus “Whippoorwill”

Calls from every vine-clad hill.

Sleep, while all the birdies sing

Praises to our Saviour King.

In the leafy nest

Songsters are at rest;

All the little ground birds hide

’Neath the grassy curtains wide;

In its well-made mossy bed

Every squirrel rests its head.

Sleep, my little precious bud

From the Paradise of God.