Sleep, little one, sleep. The woods are still;
The fairies are dancing under the pine,
I can see the stars in their jeweled crowns,
And their floating robes in the moon-mist shine.
Round and round they dance and sway,
Hand in hand in the dim, wan light;
Soft is the fall of their twinkling feet,
Lest they waken the flowers that sleep by night.
Sleep, little one, sleep. The pine trees sway;
Away in the forest the shadows are deep;
While the fairies dance and the moon shines dim, -
Sleep, little brown gipsy-boy, dreamlessly sleep.