Daisies

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.