Drenched with the long, lazy, midsummer noon,
Soothed like a child on the breast of its mother,
Soothed by the chirp and the twitter and croon.
There let me dream till the dusk on its bosom
Bears me away to the kingdom of sleep,
Where to the hush of mellifluous music,
Slumbering, slumbering, quiet and deep,
I shall be watched by the Night in her beauty,
Fanned by the breath of the pine I shall lie,
Lost in the wiles of the whip-poor-will’s calling,