TWILIGHT TOWN
Down a drowsy, dewy hill
Leads the road away
To the walls of Twilight Town
At the close of day;
There the people wander slow
Down the shadow street
Fingers to their lips they lift
When they chance to meet.
All the houses, painted gray,
Blink their sleepy eyes;
Mothers, all along the way,
Whisper lullabyes;
Each bird-baby cuddles down
In its purple nest;
This is quiet Twilight Town;
The watchword there is Rest.
THE LUCKY LITTLE STAR
“I’m a lucky little star!” sang the brightest in the sky.
“Of all the stars about me there is none so glad as I!
For every night at twilight, at the end of every day,
I can look right through a window, in a very pleasant way,
And watch a little mother, with a pretty, drooping head,
As she tucks a little earth-child up, and leaves him safe in bed.”
“And when she’s drawn the curtain back, and blown away the light,
She leaves the little earth-child to slumber and the night;
But never right to slumber,—our secret may it be,—
For every night the little child looks out and smiles to me.
No other star in heaven has so good a place as I!
I’m a lucky little star,” sang the brightest in the sky.