Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/118

 And when I am tired I'll nestle my head &emsp;In the bosom that's soothed me so often, And the wide-awake stars shall sing in my stead &emsp;A song which our dreaming shall soften. So, Mother-My-Love, let me take your dear hand, &emsp;And away through the starlight we'll wander&mdash; Away through the mist to the beautiful land&mdash; &emsp;The Dreamland that's waiting out yonder!