Now the day is done, 
Now the shepherd sun 
Drives his white flocks from the sky; 
Now the flowers rest 
On their mother's breast, 
Hushed by her low lullaby. 

Now the glowworms glance, 
Now the fireflies dance, 
Under fern-boughs green and high; 
And the western breeze 
To the forest trees 
Chants a tuneful lullaby. 

Now 'mid shadows deep 
Falls blessed sleep, 
Like dew from the summer sky; 
And the whole earth dreams, 
In the moon's soft beams, 
While night breathes a lullaby. 

Now, birdlings, rest, 
In your wind-rocked nest, 
Unscared by the owl's shrill cry; 
For with folded wings 
Little Brier swings, 
And singeth your lullaby.