I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently? And then it covers them up snug, you know, with a white quilt; and perhaps it says “Go to sleep, darlings, till the summer comes again.
- When I lay my head on the pillow at night I can say I was a decent person today. That’s when I feel beautiful.
- Look, the world’s comforter, with weary gait, His day’s hot task hath ended in the west: The owl, night’s herald, shrieks-’tis very late; The sheep are gone to fold, birds to their nest; And coal-black clouds, that shadow heaven’s light, Do summon us to part, and bid good night.