The Sandman

The rosy clouds float overhead,

The sun is going down;

And now the sandman's gentle tread,

Comes stealing through the town.

"White sand, white sand, sand," he softly cries,

And, as he shakes his hand,

Straightway there lies in babies' eyes

His gift of shining sand.

Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,

As shuts the rose, they softly close,

When he goes through the town.

From shiny beaches far away—

Yes, in another land—

He gathers up at break of day

His store of shining sand.

No tempests beat that shore remote,

No ships may sail away;

His little boat alone may float

Within that lovely bay.

Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,

As shuts the rose, they softly close,

When he goes through the town.

He smiles to see the eyelids close

Above the happy eyes,

And every child right well he knows.

Oh! he is very wise!

But if, as he goes through the land,

A naughty baby cries,

His other hand takes dull gray sand

To close the wakeful eyes.

Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,

As shuts the rose, they softly close,

When he goes through the town.

So when you hear the sandman's song

Sound through the twilight sweet,

Be sure you do not keep him long

Awaiting on the street.

Lie softly down, dear little head;

Rest quiet, busy hands,

Till by your bed, his good night said,

He strews the shining sands.

Blue eyes, gray eyes, black eyes and brown,

As shuts the rose, they softly close,

When he goes through the town.

—Margaret Vandegrift.