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TYNKEN, Blynken, and Nod one night

Sailed off in a wooden shoe, Sailed on a river of misty light

Into a sea of dew. “Where are you going, and what do you wish?

The old moon asked the three.
“We have come to fish for the herring-fish

That live in this beautiful sea;
Nets of silver and gold have we,'

Said Wynken,
And Nod.

The old moon laughed and sung a song,

As they rocked in the wooden shoe;
And the wind that sped them all night long,

Ruffled the waves of dew;
The little stars were the herring-fish

That lived in the beautiful sea.
“Now cast your nets wherever you wish,

But never afeard are we!”
So cried the stars to the fishermen three, --

And Nod.

All night long their nets they threw

For the fish in the twinkling foam, Then down from the sky came the wooden shoe,

Bringing the fishermen home;

'Twas all so pretty a sail, it seemed

As if it could not be ;
And some folk thought 'twas a dream they'd dreamed,

Of sailing that beautiful sea ;
But I shall name you the fishermen three, –

And Nod.

Wynken and Blynken are two little eyes,

And Nod is a little head,
And the wooden shoe that sailed the skies

Is a wee one's trundle-bed ;
So shut your eyes while mother sings

Of wonderful sights that be,
And you shall see the beautiful things

As you rock on the misty sea
Where the old shoe rocked the fishermen three,

And Nod.
Eugene Field - A Little Book of Western Verse.


OOD-NIGHT, pretty Sun, good-night!

I've watched your purple and golden light
While you are sinking away;
And some one has just been telling me
You're making o'er the shining sea

Another beautiful day;
That just at the time I am going to sleep,

The children there are taking a peep

At your face, — beginning to say, “Good-morning!” just when I say "good-night!” Now, beautiful Sun, if they've told me right,

I wish you'd say good-morning for me
To all the little ones over the sea.

- Sydney Dayre.



W the day is over,

Night is drawing nigh,
Shadows of the evening

Steal across the sky.

Through the long night-watches,

May Thine angels spread
Their white wings above us;

Watching round each bed.

When the morning wakens

Then may I arise
Pure, and fresh, and sinless,
In Thy holy eyes.

- Sabine Baring-Gould




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