THEN, when you are tucked up snugly, children, call on Hans, and the land, where all the ugly ducklings turn to swans, and this earth is but a pale moonlit memory, with the Chinese nightingale singing in her tree. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO THE AUTHOR OF 'THE ROBBERS' (SCHILLER) by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE BIVOUAC OF THE DEAD by THEODORE O'HARA A NIGHT-PIECE ON DEATH by THOMAS PARNELL A THOUGHT FOR MOTHER'S DAY by MAMIE COLLINS BARRY INVOCATION by CHARLES BAUDELAIRE |