AT DUSK.
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.