The children finally in bed, each bare Foot scrubbed and dried before it climbed the stair, The milk pails washed and set up in a row, The day's unending toil at last runs low, And she may rest a moment on the seat Out underneath the elm, her slow heartbeat The only effort now that weary strength Need make; and as the twilight's blue-gray length Unfolds across the fields, her tired eyes Look off to where, pale gold, a crescent lies Above the western hills. The stars appear And bring their friendly high still silence near. At last up through the darkening yard she goes To join her man in sleep's well-earned repose. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE POPLAR by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM THADDEUS STEVENS by PHOEBE CARY AN EPITAPH by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE TO CERTAIN POETS by ALFRED JOYCE KILMER THE PILGRIM FATHERS by JOHN PIERPONT |