They shall tell of the stars and moon,
And their lips shall move to a glad sweet tune,
Till upon your cool, white bed
Fall at last your nodding head;
Then in dreamland fair and blest,
Farther off than East and West,
They give you rest.
Night and Sleep, that goodly twain,
Tho' they go, shall come again;
When your work and play are done,
And the Sun and Day are gone
Hand in hand thro' the scarlet West,
Each shall come, an honoured guest,
And bring you rest.
Watching at your window-sill,
If upon the Eastern hill
Sun and Day come back no more,
They shall lead you from the door
To their kingdom calm and blest,
Farther off than East or West,
And give you rest.
Arriving down to breakfast earlier than expected next morning, we
discovered George busy at some more of his loving ingenuity. He half
blushed in his shy way, but went on writing in this wise, with chalk,
upon a small blackboard: '_Thursday_--_Thor's-day_--_Jack the Giant
Killer's day_'. Then, in one corner of the board, a sun was rising with
a merry face and flaming locks, and beneath him was written,
'_Phoebus-Apollo';_ while in the other corner was a setting moon, '_Lady
Cynthia_. There were other quaint matters, too, though they have escaped
my memory; but these hints are sufficient to indicate George's morning
occupation. Thus he endeavoured to implant in the young minds he felt so
sacred a trust an ever-present impression of the full significance of
life in every one of its details.
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