The Children

We are the children who play in the park
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Once upon a time
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Wind is to show
How a thing can blow,
And especially through trees;
When it is fast
It is called a blast,
And it's otherwise known as a breeze.

It begins somewhere in the sky,
Like a sigh,
Then it turns to a roar,
And returns to a sigh once more.
Wind is the air
In your hair,
When you stand
On the sand
By the shore.

Wind will shake the lattices late at night,
It will make the clouds go by;
Anything easy that's hard to do,
It is pretty sure to try:
Blow down a pine,
Clothes from a line,
Tumble a chimney top.
Wind is the general sound
You hear around,
That suddenly likes to stop.

Sleep is not something you worry about;
Sleep is just something you do.
Don't make resolutions to figure it out,
But love it like children and sleep will come true.

We never go to sleep to dream;
We go to sleep to go to sleep.
Unusual as it may seem,
We never spend our time counting sheep.

A little confidence does the trick
When we climb into our beds,
Instead of filling our heads
With a lot of animals and arithmetic.

We love the way we love to go to sleep;
To sink into a slumber that is always pretty deep,
To go sailing off to a star,
To be buried in a field of hay,
To stop remembering who we are
When we're finished with our prayers and our play,
After we have given you a goodnight kiss
And closed our eyes like this:

It's an awful lot of fun,
And it's restful too;
Do you see how it's done?
Do you?

Superimpose
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Moo is a cow
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Husbands and wives!
Are we not your little lives?
Fathers and mothers!
Who but we will be your others?
Why do you fear us, freeze us
Out of your heart?
One of us was Jesus;
He played our part,
In His little manger,
Smiling in His smallness,
To protect us from the danger
Of nothing-at-all-ness.
One of us was God.
Has this not been told abroad,
To some by song,
To some by star?
Then when will we be known
For what we are?