Dark shadows fall upon the earth,

Cool vapors rise in air,

The screech-owl in the copse is heard,

The bees are freed from care.

The butterfly has closed its wings,

The lark has gone to rest;

The nightingale in tree-top sings;

To sleep the crow thinks best.

The lightning bug glows in the brake;

The cricket chirps beneath the stone;

The whip poor will is yet awake,

The bull-frog calls in deep, low tone.

The flowers droop their weary heads,

The leaves are nodding in the breeze;

Young birdlings sleep in downy beds;

Squirrels are resting in the trees.

The bats are flying low and high;

The fishes rest in waters deep.

The red has gone from western sky,

All nature soon will be asleep.

—Albert Schneider.