The Best

When the shadows stretch to eastward,
Their long slimfingered threads,
And the golden flecks of sunlight,
Softly steal away from sight,
'Tis then the hour when soft bird songs,
Doth please the human heart.
And peace comes singing
Her lullaby of the night.
As the roses darken with the shadows
And vanish from our sight,
The song birds cease their warbling
To close their weary eyes in rest.
'Tis then a baby nestles close
Within it's mothers sheltering arms
And we know this hour of the day
Truly is the best.

by Fern Conger Palleson

Other poems of FERN CONGER PALLESON (2)

Comments (0)

There is no comment submitted by members.