. . . come ride, come ride my gentle son come ride across the room over the chairs, the stairs, and out until you reach the moon upon your horse of mighty wood more fleet than flesh can be out across that magic sky that only owls and children see ride, ride, my golden one before the stars are dark and drawn and all your dreams grow still before the dew has come and gone come ride, come ride, my blue-eyed one come ride across the room over the cha irs, the stairs, and out until you reach the moon . . .