It was noon. The children's playtime was over; the ducks in the
pond were silent.

The shepherd boy lay asleep under the shadow of the banyan
tree.

The crane stood grave and still in the swamp near the mango
grove.

In the meanwhile the Sleep-stealer came and, snatching sleep from
baby's eyes, flew away.

When mother came back she found baby travelling the room over on
all fours.

Who stole sleep from our baby's eyes? I must know. I must find
her and chain her up.

I must look into that dark cave, where, through boulders and
scowling stones, trickles a tiny stream.

I must search in the drowsy shade of the bakula grove,
where pigeons coo in their corner, and fairies' anklets tinkle in
the stillness of starry nights.

In the evening I will peep into the whispering silence of the
bamboo forest, where fireflies squander their light, and will ask
every creature I meet, "Can anybody tell me where the
Sleep-stealer lives?"