When vanished is the gold and violet

When vanished is the gold and violet,
And all the pearl and opal turned to grey,
We call the drowsy children from their play.
' Come, bonny birds, to roost; the sun has set! '
And still they cry, ' We are not sleepy yet;
Only a little longer may we stay —
Only a little while? ' half-sighing say;
' We were so still, we hoped you might forget.'
We, too, delay, with childish stratagem,
The while we break our playthings one by one,
Sobbing our foolish hearts out over them;
Till comes the wise nurse Death, at set of sun,
When, wearied out and piteous, we run
Weeping to her and clasp her garments' hem.