University Woodlot in November. 



DOWN TO SLEEP. 



November woods are bare and still, 

 November days are clear and bright; 



Each noon burns up the morning's chill, 

 The morning's snow is gone by night; 



Each day my steps grow slow, grow light, 

 As through the woods I reverent creep, 



Watching all things "lie down to sleep". 



I never knew before what beds 

 Fragrant to smell and soft to touch, 



The forest sifts and shapes and spreads; 

 I never knew before how much 



Of human sound there is in such 

 Low tones as through the forest sweep 



When all wild things "lie down to sleep". 



Each day I find new coverlids 

 Tucked, and more sweet eyes shut tight, 



Sometimes the viewless mother bids 

 Her ferns kneel down full in my sight; 



I hear their chorus of "Good-night" 

 And half I smile and half I weep 



Listening while they "lie down to sleep". 



November woods are bare and still, 

 November days are bright and good; 



Life's noon burns up life's morning chill, 

 Life's night rests feet which long have stood; 



Some warm soft bed in field or wood 

 The mother will not fail to keep, 



Where we can "lay us down to sleep". 



HELEN HUNT JACKSON. 

 (From Barbe's Famous Poems Explained) 



