The Sand Man

The Sand Man

Oho! but he travels the country over,

The queer little, kind little, elfish rover!

Lightly he bears in his tricksome hand

A silvery horn full of sleepy sand,

Shaking it here, and shaking it there,

Till the blossoms nod in the drowsy air;

Till the sunlight creeps down hill to bed,

Or slips through the sky where clouds are red;

Till the lambkins bleat a soft "good-night!"

And birds grow still in the tree-tops bright,

While sweet little eyelids, all over the land,

Droop with the weight of the silvery sand.