  BABY’S brain is tired of thinking On the Wherefore and the Whence; Baby’s precious eyes are blinking With incipient somnolence. Little hands are weary turning Heavy leaves of lexicon; Little nose is fretted learning How to keep its glasses on. Baby knows the laws of nature Are beneficent and wise; His medulla oblongata And his pneumogastrics tell him Quietude is always best When his little cerebellum Needs recuperative rest. Baby must have relaxation, Let the world go wrong or right. Sleep, my darling—leave Creation To its chances for the night. James Jeffrey Roche. |
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