TWILIGHT TOWN

Down a drowsy, dewy hill Leads the road away To the walls of Twilight Town At the close of day; There the people wander slow Down the shadow street Fingers to their lips they lift When they chance to meet. All the houses, painted gray, Blink their sleepy eyes; Mothers, all along the way, Whisper lullabyes; Each bird-baby cuddles down In its purple nest; This is quiet Twilight Town; The watchword there is Rest.