THE breeze is a-blowing, all out of the west;

The proud cock is crowing and lifting his crest;

The red light is growing, the darkness is going,

Night may be pleasant, but daytime is best!

The robins are flying each one to his nest;

The young lambs are lying all folded to rest;

The low winds are sighing, the sunset is dying:

Day may be pleasant, but nighttime is best.




St. Nicholas.