  Have you ever seen the sand-man, old, Who comes to us every one, I'm told, With his countless bags of silver sand, And drops it down with an unseen hand; And our eyelids very heavy grow, As off to the land of dreams we go? He is very shy. I have often tried To keep my eyelids open wide And watch for him. But he cheats me so, And puts me to sleep before I know. Is he like the wind, do you suppose, Which is never seen when it comes and goes? Oh, ho! The sand-man's fun is past, He has gone to sleep himself at last; We'll build a fort beside the sea, And he our prisoner shall be. He is not the wind with an unseen hand, But a giant made of silver sand.
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