Cottage Dreams

I can see from the window a little brown house,
And the garden goes up to the top of the hill.
And the sun comes each day,
And slips down away
At the end of the garden an’ sleeps there . . . until
The daylight comes climbing up over the hill.

I do wish I lived in the little brown house,
Then at night I’d go up to the garden, an’ creep
Up . . . up . . . then I’d stop,
An’ lean over the top,
At the end of the garden, an’ so I could peep
And see what the sun looks like when it’s asleep.