SLEEPYHEAD

As I lay awake in the white moonlight,

I heard a faint singing in the wood,

“Out of bed,

Sleepyhead,

Put your white foot, now;

Here are we

Beneath the tree

Singing round the root now.”

I looked out of window, in the white moonlight,

The leaves were like snow in the wood —

“Come away,

Child, and play

Light with the gnomies;

In a mound,

Green and round,

That's where their home is.”

“Honey sweet,

Curds to eat,

Cream and frumenty,

Shells and beads,

Poppy seeds,

You shall have plenty.”

But, as soon as I stooped in the dim moonlight

To put on my stocking and my shoe,

The sweet shrill singing echoed faintly away,

And the grey of the morning peeped through,

And instead of the gnomies there came a red robin

To sing of the buttercups and dew.