Part 2 — THE SAND MAN.

EACH night a man goes round our town, And into eyes of blue and brown, He sprinkles, with a careful hand, The finest, softest grains of sand. Then as sweet blossoms close at night, O’er shining eyes fall curtains white; For all these precious grains of sand Are gathered up in Slumber Land. ’Tis there the peaceful river gleams Where children sail in happy dreams; The Sand Man takes them in his boat, So off my little pet must float. Myra Goodwin Plantz.