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Denis Florence Maccarthy

Good-Night.

OOD-NIGHT, To each weary toil-worn wight!

Now the day so sweetly closes, Every aching brow reposes Peacefully till morning light.

Good-night!

Home to rest!

Close the eye and calm the breast; Stillness through the streets is stealing, And the watchman's horn is pealing, And the night calls softly, "Haste!

Home to rest!"

Sweetly sleep!

Eden's breezes round ye sweep.

O'er the peace-forsaken lover Let the darling image hover, As he lies in transport deep.

Sweetly sleep!

So, good-night!

Slumber on till morning light; Slumber till another morrow Brings its stores of joy and sorrow; Fearless, in the Father's sight, Slumber on. Good-night!