Time For Bed

    "Time for bed!" - the weary day
With its toils has passed away
Sol has wrapped his forehead bright
In the curtains of the night,
And his glorious lamp again
Lowered behind the western main
Leaving all heaven's pure expanse
Radiant with his parting glance

    Just a few, faint stars are seen
Ranged around the midnight queen -
A select and glorious band
Who alone may waiting stand
Hound the monarch of the night,
Bearing up their urns of light,
Her majestic path to cheer
Till the shadows disappear.

    "Time for bed!" the folded flowers
Hang their heads in forest bowers;
Nestled in each downy nest
Day's sweet songsters calmly rest;
And the night-bird's plaintive hymn
Echoes through the forest dim;
Dew-drops on the birchen-bough
In the star-beams sparkle now,
Scarce a zephyr stirs the rose
So profound is Earth's repose.

    "Time for bed!" put by thy books,
Learner, with thy studious looks; -
Poet, lay the pen away,
Candle-light will spoil thy lay; -
Leave it till the morning hours
Come with sunshine to the flowers, -
Leave it till from shrub and tree
Birds pour forth their minstrelsy, -
Till the sun on wood and wold
Turns the drops of dew to gold, -
Till the bee comes forth to sip
Nectar from the flow'rets lip, -
Till the light-winged zephyrs wake
Dancing ripples on the lake,
And the cloudlets in the height
Don their fleecy robes of white; -
Then, with graceful Euterpe,
Seek the spreading greenwood tree,
And with joy, and light, and love,
AH around thee and above,
Tune thy lyre to praiseful mirth
With all happy things of Earth!

    "Time for bed!" - thou man of toil,
Why consume the midnight oil? -
Night was made for slumbers blest,
Thou art weary, therefore rest!

    "Time for bed!" - poor "Martha," thou
Long enough hast labored now;
All the day's bright hours are numbered,
Yet art thou "with toiling cumbered."
Lay that tedious work away
Till the blest return of day, -
Thou art care-worn and oppressed,
Thou art weary "Martha," rest!

    "Time for bed!" - shut up the stove,
To its place the table move,
Lay the books into their case,
Wheel the sofa to its place,
Wind the clock, brush up the floor,
Close the shutters, lock the door,
That will do - put out the light,
Toil and trouble, all good night!

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Pamela S. Vining, also known by her pseudonym J. C. Yule, was an English poet whose work was recognized in the 19th century. Despite her significant contribution to English poetry, detailed information about her life, including her birth and death dates, remains elusive. She remains a noteworthy figure in the canon of English literature for her emotive and thought-provoking poetry.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Beyond The Shadows.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

The Tide.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

Eloise.

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

The Eye That Never Sleeps

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule), Simple Poetry

English

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Good Night

Good night, good night! - the day
Slowly has borne away,
                Music and light;
Once more the starry train
Sweeps over vale and plain,
Soft falls the dews again -
                Good night-good night!

Day's weary toils are done,
Set is the glorious sun,
                Faded the light; -
Now, to the weary breast
Ever a welcome guest, -
Comes the sweet hour of rest -
                Good night - good night!

Evening's cool shadows lie
Calmly o'er earth and sky;
                And, from the height
Of the far, wooded hill,
Sends the lone whip-poor-will,
Softer and sweeter still,
                Plaintive good night.

Gently let slumber lie
On every weary eye
                Tired of the light!
E'...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Till To-Morrow.

Good night! good night! - the golden day
    Has veiled its sunset beam,
And twilight's star its beauteous ray
    Has mirrored in the stream; -
Low voices come from vale and height,
    And murmur soft, good night! good night!

Good night! - the bee with folded wings
    Sleeps sweet in honeyed flowers,
And far away the night-bird sings
    In dreamy forest bowers,
And slowly fades the western light
    In deepening shade, - good night! good night!

Good night! good night! - in whispers low
    The ling'ring zephyr sighs,
And softly, in its dreamy flow,
    The murm'ring brook replies;
And, where yon casement still is bright,
    A softer voice has breathed good-night!

Good night! - as steals the cooling dew
    Where the young ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)

Bedtime.

"It's bedtime, bedtime, Cissy dear,
    It's time to put away,
Your little Noah's ark dear
    Until another day,
You know it isn't right at all
    To tire yourself with play.

And they too must be tired dear,
    The elephants want to go
To bed, - if they're much later,
    They'll all be ill I know,
And every well bred camel,
    Is in bed long ago.

And surely you can see dear,
    It really isn't right,
The little dove's so tired dear,
    She scarce can stand upright.
It does not do to keep them up
    So very late at night."

Lizzie Lawson

In The Twilight

Not bed-time yet! The night-winds blow,
The stars are out, - full well we know
The nurse is on the stair,
With hand of ice and cheek of snow,
And frozen lips that whisper low,
"Come, children, it is time to go
My peaceful couch to share."

No years a wakeful heart can tire;
Not bed-time yet! Come, stir the fire
And warm your dear old hands;
Kind Mother Earth we love so well
Has pleasant stories yet to tell
Before we hear the curfew bell;
Still glow the burning brands.

Not bed-time yet! We long to know
What wonders time has yet to show,
What unborn years shall bring;
What ship the Arctic pole shall reach,
What lessons Science waits to teach,
What sermons there are left to preach.
What poems yet to sing.

What next? we as...

Oliver Wendell Holmes

Night.

Lo! where the car of Day down slopes of flame
On burnished axle quits the drowsy skies!
And as his snorting steeds of glowing brass
Rush 'neath the earth, a glimmering dust of gold
From their fierce hoofs o'er heaven's azure meads
Rolls to yon star that burns beneath the moon.
With solemn tread and holy-stoled, star-bound,
The Night steps in, sad votaress, like a nun,
To pace lone corridors of th' ebon-archéd sky.
How sad! how beautiful! her raven locks
Pale-filleted with stars that dance their sheen
On her deep, holy eyes, and woo to sleep,
Sleep or the easeful slumber of white Death!
How calm o'er this great water, in its flow
Silent and vast, smoothes yon cold sister sphere,
Her lucid chasteness feathering the wax-white foam!
As o'er a troubled brow falls c...

Madison Julius Cawein

I Laid Me Down And Slept

(Ps. 3 5.)


                                    Dark was the midnight hour,
And wild with storm. Nor moon nor pitying star
Gleamed through the inky darkness from afar;
And Earth seemed reeling blindly to her doom,
As reels some stout ship thro' the midnight gloom,
What time the tempest and the waves have power.

                                    I stood alone that night,
And stretched my chill hands tow'rd the rayless sky,
And heard the wrathful winds go shrieking by,
And thought of one, whose weary feet from far
Were journeying homeward thro' that night's wild war,
Stricken with dire Consumption's deadly blight

                                    "Oh! feeble, woman's hands
Outstretched in anguish thro' the enshrouding dark,
Ye cannot reach ...

Pamela S. Vining (J. C. Yule)