When the sleepy man comes with the dust on his eyes,
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
He shuts up the earth, and he opens the skies.
(So hush-a-by, weary, my Dearie!)
He smiles through his fingers, and shuts up the sun;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
The stars that he loves he lets out one by one.
(So hush-a-by, weary, my Dearie!)
He comes from the castle of Drowsy-boy Town;
(Oh, weary, my Dearie, so weary!)
At the touch of his hand tired eyelids fall down.
(So hush-a-by, weary, my Dearie!)
— Charles D. G. Roberts
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