poem
                        
                             The song at dusk

               The flower nod,  The shadows creep

                A Ster comes over the hill;

                The youngest Lamb has gone to sleep,

                The smellest Bird is still

                                                                                                                                        

                 The world full of drowsy thing

                 And sweet with candlight

                 The nests are full of folded wings –

                 Good night,good night,good night                                

                                          ( Nancy Byrd Turner )                    

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       1