• The golden sand within the hourglass,
    Falls gently to the chamber below,
    A softly singing lullaby,
    Never fast and never slow.
    You slumber on so peacefully,
    In the deepest of midnight,
    The shadows dancing on the walls,
    In the pale moonlight.
    Its bright sand is half-gone now,
    As the night does progress,
    I stand here watching you,
    Though your sleep I don't transgress.
    The sand is almost finished
    On its many-hour course,
    The crystalline bits gleaming,
    In their round and glassy source.
    The last grain of sand
    Sits quivering on the edge,
    Alone for a just a moment,
    On the transparent ledge.
    And the gentle lullaby is through,
    As the final grain falls in,
    You sigh softly in your sleep,
    Waiting for it to begin again.
    For nothing is truly over,
    It will all occur again,
    Like the hour glass lullaby,
    Or the calling of a wren.