  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. endpaper divider |
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