Thousands of sheep, soft-footed, black-nosed sheep-- br one by one going up the hill and over the fence--one by br one four-footed pattering up and over--one by one wiggling br their stub tails as they take the short jump and go br over--one by one silently unless for the multitudinous br drumming of their hoofs as they move on and go over-- br thousands and thousands of them in the grey haze of br evening just after sundown--one by one slanting in a br long line to pass over the hill-- br br I am the slow, long-legged Sleepyman and I love you br sheep in Persia, California, Argentine, Australia, or br Spain--you are the thoughts that help me when I, the br Sleepyman, lay my hands on the eyelids of the children br of the world at eight o'clock every night--you thousands br and thousands of sheep in a procession of dusk making br an endless multitudinous drumming on the hills with br your hoofs.