A Celebration of Women Writers

"The Sandman." by Norah M. Holland (1876-1925)
From: Spun-Yarn And Spindrift. by Norah M. Holland. London & Toronto: J. M. Dent & Sons; New York: E. P. Dutton & Co., 1918, p. 74.

Editor: Mary Mark Ockerbloom

[Page 74] 


WHEN the long, hot day is over,
  And the sun drops down the west,
And the childish hands are weary,
  And the childish feet must rest,
The Sandman steals through the portals
  Where the dying sunlight gleams,
And touches the tired eyelids
  And lulls them into dreams.

Even so, when life is over,
  And the long day's march is past,
We wait in gathering shadows
  Till the Sandman comes at last.
Sad are our hearts and weary,
  And long the waiting seems;
Lord, we are tired children;
  Touch Thou our eyes with dreams.

Take from the slackened fingers
  The toys so heavy grown,
Give to Thy tired children
  Visions of Thee alone;
Then, when at length the shadows
  Darken adown the west,
Send to us Death, Thy Sandman,
  To call Thine own to rest.

[Page 75]

Editor: Mary Mark Ockerbloom