Classic Poem

When the sun goes down and the world is still,
Then Jock o' Dreams comes over the hill;
Over the hill he quietly slips,
Holding his finger to his lips.

His golden hair is pale as the moon,
He has two bright stars on his velvet shoon;
Soft his step as an elfin dance,
His sea-blue eyes have an elfin glance.

The dreams he carries are light as air,
He tosses them here, he tosses them there,
In at the windows, under the doors,
All the way up to the attic floors.

Through the silent streets he goes walking about
Till the moon drops down and the stars go out;
Then lightly swinging his empty sack,
Softly, softly, he wanders back.

A cold little wind runs over the ground,
A sleepy bird makes a tiny sound,
The sky in the East grows rosily red,
The children murmur and turn in bed.
Over the world the sunlight streams—
But what has become of Jock o' Dreams?