Villanelle of Sunset
Come hither, Child! and rest: This is the end of day, Behold the weary West! Sleep rounds with equal zest Man's toil and children's play: Come hither, Child! and rest. My white bird, seek thy nest, Thy drooping head down lay: Behold the weary West! Now are the flowers confest Of slumber: sleep, as they! Come hither, Child! and rest. Now eve is manifest, And homeward lies our way: Behold the weary West! Tired flower! upon my breast, I would wear thee alway: Come hither, Child! and rest; Behold, the weary West!
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