At eve he dons his nightgown green,
  And goes to bed right early,
At morn, he spreads his yellow skirts
  To catch the dewdrops pearly;
A darling elf is Dandelion,
  A roguish wanton sweeting;
Yet he is loved by ev’ry child,
  All give him joyous greeting.
                             Kate L. Brown.

NIGHT

The sun descending in the west,
  The evening star does shine;
The birds are silent in their nest,
  And I must seek for mine. 
    The moon, like a flower
    In heaven’s high bower,
    With silent delight
    Sits and smiles on the night.

Farewell, green fields and happy grove,
  Where flocks have ta’en delight;
Where lambs have nibbled, silent move
  The feet of angels bright;
    Unseen they pour blessing,
    And joy without ceasing,
    On each bud and blossom,
    And each sleeping bosom.

They look in every thoughtless nest
  Where birds are cover’d warm,
They visit caves of every beast,
  To keep them all from harm:—­
    If they see any weeping
    That should have been sleeping
    They pour sleep on their head,
    And sit down by their bed.
                          William Blake.

A LAUGHING SONG

When the green woods laugh with the voice of joy,
And the dimpling stream runs laughing by;
When the air does laugh with our merry wit,
And the green hill laughs with the noise of it;

When the meadows laugh with lively green,
And the grasshopper laughs in the merry scene;
When Mary, and Susan, and Emily,
With their sweet round mouths sing, “Ha, ha, he!”

When the painted birds laugh in the shade,
Where our table with cherries and nuts is spread: 
Come live, and be merry, and join with me
To sing the sweet chorus of “Ha, ha, he!”
                                William Blake.

THE LAND OF DREAMS

“Awake, awake, my little boy! 
Thou wast thy mother’s only joy;
Why dost thou weep in thy gentle sleep? 
O wake! thy father does thee keep.”

—­“O what land is the Land of Dreams? 
What are its mountains, and what are its streams? 
O father!  I saw my mother there,
Among the lilies by waters fair.

“Among the lambs, clothed in white,
She walk’d with her Thomas in sweet delight: 
I wept for joy; like a dove I mourn:—­
O when shall I again return!”

—­“Dear child!  I also by pleasant streams
Have wander’d all night in the Land of Dreams:—­
But, though calm and warm the waters wide,
I could not get to the other side.”

—­“Father, O father! what do we here,
In this land of unbelief and fear?—­
The Land of Dreams is better far,
Above the light of the morning star.”
                         William Blake.