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[Written for the Journal]


From the April 1916 issue of The Christian Science Journal

Sleep, little bird, 'neath thy mother's wing; The sun sinks low in the purpling sky, While gently the night-winds thy cradle swing And croon thee a tender lullaby. Sleep, little one, on thy mother's breast; Now deeper and deeper the shadows fall As twilight covers the dreaming west, And the evening's peace broods over all.