All through the pasture bars of sleep
My flock of dreams come home to me,
The glad ones, and the sad ones, and the ones that bring me rest;
At twilight, when the day is done,
My slumber fairy chooses one
And brings it to me gently, by a road she knows the best.
Tonight the grass is drooped with dew;
I count the stars, and there are two
And one, and three, and two again, above the cloudy trees;
The mist-hung world a-weary seems,
Dear slumber fairy, call my dreams,
Let down the pasture bars of sleep, and bring one home to me.