Sweet is summer’s breezeThrough the leafy trees,Where the honeysuckles grow,And the violets belowOpen wide their bright blue eyes,Looking towards the sunny skies.Sleep, while gentle south winds blowOver blossoms white as snow.Now the sunset birdBy his trill has stirredAll the evening songsters near;What a warbling choir is here!And the chorus “Whippoorwill”Calls from every vine-clad hill.Sleep, while all the birdies singPraises to our Saviour King.In the leafy nestSongsters are at rest;All the little ground birds hide’Neath the grassy curtains wide;In its well-made mossy bedEvery squirrel rests its head.Sleep, my little precious budFrom the Paradise of God.
Sweet is summer’s breezeThrough the leafy trees,Where the honeysuckles grow,And the violets belowOpen wide their bright blue eyes,Looking towards the sunny skies.Sleep, while gentle south winds blowOver blossoms white as snow.Now the sunset birdBy his trill has stirredAll the evening songsters near;What a warbling choir is here!And the chorus “Whippoorwill”Calls from every vine-clad hill.Sleep, while all the birdies singPraises to our Saviour King.In the leafy nestSongsters are at rest;All the little ground birds hide’Neath the grassy curtains wide;In its well-made mossy bedEvery squirrel rests its head.Sleep, my little precious budFrom the Paradise of God.
Sweet is summer’s breezeThrough the leafy trees,Where the honeysuckles grow,And the violets belowOpen wide their bright blue eyes,Looking towards the sunny skies.Sleep, while gentle south winds blowOver blossoms white as snow.
Sweet is summer’s breeze
Through the leafy trees,
Where the honeysuckles grow,
And the violets below
Open wide their bright blue eyes,
Looking towards the sunny skies.
Sleep, while gentle south winds blow
Over blossoms white as snow.
Now the sunset birdBy his trill has stirredAll the evening songsters near;What a warbling choir is here!And the chorus “Whippoorwill”Calls from every vine-clad hill.Sleep, while all the birdies singPraises to our Saviour King.
Now the sunset bird
By his trill has stirred
All the evening songsters near;
What a warbling choir is here!
And the chorus “Whippoorwill”
Calls from every vine-clad hill.
Sleep, while all the birdies sing
Praises to our Saviour King.
In the leafy nestSongsters are at rest;All the little ground birds hide’Neath the grassy curtains wide;In its well-made mossy bedEvery squirrel rests its head.Sleep, my little precious budFrom the Paradise of God.
In the leafy nest
Songsters are at rest;
All the little ground birds hide
’Neath the grassy curtains wide;
In its well-made mossy bed
Every squirrel rests its head.
Sleep, my little precious bud
From the Paradise of God.
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