I woke before the morning, I was happy all the day,
I never said an ugly word, but smiled and stuck to play.
And now at last the sun is going down behind the wood,
And I am very happy, for I know that I've been good.
My bed is waiting cool and fresh, with linen smooth and fair,
And I must be off to sleep, and not forget my prayer.
I know that, till tomorrow I shall see the sun rise,
No ugly dream shall fright my mind, no ugly sight my eyes.
But slumber hold me tightly till I waken in the dawn,
And hear the thrushes singing in the illacs round the lawn.
[ A poem by Robert Louis Stevenson ]
.gif)
.gif)
0 comments:
Post a Comment