Poem By George MacDonald
'Come, children, put away your toys;
Roll up that kite's long line;
The day is done for girls and boys-
Look, it is almost nine!
Come, weary foot, and sleepy head,
Get up, and come along to bed.'
The children, loath, must yet obey;
Up the long stair they creep;
Lie down, and something sing or say
Until they fall asleep,
To steal through caverns of the night
Into the morning's golden light.
We, elder ones, sit up more late,
And tasks unfinished ply,
But, gently busy, watch and wait-
Dear sister, you and I,
To hear the Father, with soft tread,
Coming to carry us to bed.