A Week of Rhymes

I've always liked this rhyme.

Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
But the child that's born on the Sabbath Day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.

Sleep, My Child, And Peace Attend Thee

Sleep comes o'er us
Drawing us in tight
Nestled in her bosom
Bosom of the night.

Castaways of dream land
Floating 'neath the moon
Fading memories gone away
Return again at noon.

Not sure if this has a point but it came to me on the spur of the moment. The title is obviously a song and not my own. It doesn't belong to the poem.