Sometimes my thoughts are fairies gay,
That dance around a ring;
And sometimes they are joyous birds,
That sing, and sing, and sing
All day my thoughts are busy.
They skip and jump and roam
But when the twilight deepens,
I call them to come home.
And when I go to sleep each night,
I ask the angels fair
To hold my thoughts beneath their wings,
And shelter them in prayer.