Brent Smith


Unknow

All the little birds have gone in their nests to sleep.
And out in folds I cannot see sleep the woolly sheep.
All the flowers that grow by day pink and blue and white,
are just as safe in darkest dark,
as in the brightest light.
Every child of mine I keep close to me each night.
So bide you quietly through the night,
like bird and lamb and flower.

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