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Frank Dempster Sherman


At evening when I go to bed

I see the stars shine overhead;

They are the little daisies white

That dot the meadow of the Night.

And often while I'm dreaming so,

Across the sky the Moon will go;

It is a lady, sweet and fair,

Who comes to gather daisies there.

For, when at morning I arise,

There's not a star left in the skies;

She's picked them all and dropped them down

Into the meadows of the town.