Remember, on your knees,
The men who guard your slumbers-

And guard a house in a still street
Of drifting leaves and drifting feet,
A deep blue window where below
Lies moonlight on the roofs like snow,
A clock that still the quarters tells
To the Dove that roosts beneath the bell’s
Grave canopy of silent brass
Round which the little night winds pass
Yet stir it not in the grey steeple;
And guard all small and drowsy people
Whom gentlest dusk doth disattire,
Undressing by the nursery fire
In unperturbed numbers
On this side of the seas-

Remember, on your knees,
The men who guard your slumbers-