THE weather-brown windmill swings to rest; Its whimsical drone is o'er. The peat-smoke mantles a curling crest On the quay by the dyke-bound shore. While the Zuyder Zee sings low to thee, Murmuring "Kindje, sleep." The fancy-fairies have sailed away, 'Cross the twinkling moon-winked snow, In the steeple-hats of mynheer's array And his sturdiest wooden sabots. -- Oh! for the streams of the land of dreams, Whispering "Kindje, sleep." So, quick, my sweet, ere the goblin-elf Peer out on thy blue-bright eyes, For swift he swoops from the pottery-shelf And dread are the dreams he plies. But never a fear, for the moon rides clear, Signaling, "Kindje, sleep." | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SEVEN TWILIGHTS: 4 by CONRAD AIKEN SONG OF THE WAVE by ROBERT FROST SHADOW-CASTING by JAMES GALVIN CLAY BISON IN A CAVE by CLARENCE MAJOR THE QUARREL by KATHERINE MANSFIELD SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: REV. LEMUEL WILEY by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NORTH WIND TO DUTIFUL BEAST MIDWAY BETWEEN DIAL & FOOT OF GARDEN CLOCK by MARIANNE MOORE |