William Haskell Simpson.
Bees have left the fragrant rye,
Clouds are fading in the sky;
Home the weary birdies fly__
Hush, baby dear,
Soldiers rest from war's alarms,
All is quiet on the farms__
God's peace clasps us in its arms.
Sleep, mother's near!
Moonlit silence wraps yon hills,
And this river feels no thrills
From the still wheels of the mills__
Hush, baby dear.
You, too, find soft-billowed rest
On sweet mother-love's warm breast,
When rose flushes quit the west.
Sleep, do not fear!