Poem by George MacDonald

Going to Sleep

Little one, you must not fret
That I take your clothes away;
Better sleep you so will get,
And at morning wake more gay-
Saith the children's mother.

You I must unclothe again,
For you need a better dress;
Too much worn are body and brain;
You need everlastingness-
Saith the heavenly father.

I went down death's lonely stair;
Laid my garments in the tomb;
Dressed again one morning fair;
Hastened up, and hied me home-
Saith the elder brother.

Then I will not be afraid
Any ill can come to me;
When 'tis time to go to bed,
I will rise and go with thee-
Saith the little brother. 

1. To A. J. Scott
2. Russell Gurney
3. Death
4. To Aubrey de Vere
5. General Gordon

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