Nature

As a fond mother, when the day is o'er, 

Leads by the hand her little child to bed, 

Half willing, half reluctant to be led, 

And leave his broken playthings on the floor, 

Still gazing at them through the open door, 

Nor wholly reassured and comforted 

By promises of others in their stead, 

Which, though more splendid, may not please him more; 

So Nature deals with us, and takes away 

Our playthings one by one, and by the hand 

Leads us to rest so gently, that we go 

Scarce knowing if we wish to go or stay, 

Being too full of sleep to understand 

How far the unknown transcends the what we know. 

~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow