A Boston Lullaby

BABY’S brain is tired of thinking

On the Wherefore and the Whence;

Baby’s precious eyes are blinking

With incipient somnolence.

Little hands are weary turning

Heavy leaves of lexicon;

Little nose is fretted learning

How to keep its glasses on.

Baby knows the laws of nature

Are beneficent and wise;

His medulla oblongata

Bids my darling close his eyes,

And his pneumogastrics tell him

Quietude is always best

When his little cerebellum

Needs recuperative rest.

Baby must have relaxation,

Let the world go wrong or right.

Sleep, my darling, leave Creation

To its chances for the night.