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.