As Evening Falls

At eve the horse is freed of plough or wain,
And all things turn from labour unto rest ;
The scattered sheep are gathering home again,
And every bird is winging to its nest;
And every beast goes to his den once more
By hedge or hill. Each mother is aware
That little feet
Have paused in field or street,
And she will hear a knocking at the door

And open it, and see her children there.

Songs From The Clay [1915]