Frank Dempster ShermanAt evening when I go to bed
I see the stars shine overhead;
They are the little daisies white
That dot the meadows of the night.
And often when 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.