Charlotte Mew

Fin de Fête

Sweetheart, for such a day
    One mustn’t grudge the score;
Here, then, it’s all to pay,
    It’s Good-night at the door.
 
Good-night and good dreams to you,—
    Do you remember the picture-book thieves
Who left two children sleeping in a wood the long night through,
    And how the birds came down and covered them with leaves?
 
So you and I should have slept,—But now,
    Oh, what a lonely head!
With just the shadow of a waving bough
    In the moonlight over your bed.
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