Poetry Archives

The sun is gone down
  And the moon’s in the sky
But the sun will come up
  And the moon be laid by.

The flower is asleep.
  But it is not dead,
When the morning shines
  It will lift its head.

When winter comes
  It will die! No, no,
It will only hide
  From the frost and snow.

Sure is the summer,
  Sure is the sun;
The night and the winter
  Away they run.