Now, through the dusk
With muffled bell
The Dustman comes
The World to tell,
Night’s elfin lanterns
Burn and gleam
in the twilight, wonderful
World of Dream.
Hollow and dim
Sleep’s boat doth ride,
Heavily still
At the waterside.
Patter, patter,
The children come,
Yawning and sleepy,
Out of the gloom.
Like droning bees
in a garden green.
Over the thwarts
They clamber in.
And lovely Sleep
With long-drawn oar
Turns away
From the whispering shore.
Over the water
Like roses glide
Her hundreds of passengers
Packed inside,
To where in her garden
Tremble and gleam
The harps and lamps
Of the World of Dream.
