Page:Field Poems of Childhood.djvu/45

 Oftentimes before he knows, Wearylike his eyelids close, And, still smiling, off he goes Where the land of By-low is.

There he sees the folk of fay Hard at ring-a-rosie play, And he hears those fairies say: "Come, let's chase him to and fro!" But, with a defiant shout, Teeny puts that host to rout; Of this tale I make no doubt, Every night he tells it so.

So I feel a tender pride In my boy who dares to ride That fierce horse of his astride, Off into those misty lands; And as on my breast he lies, Dreaming in that wondrous wise, I caress his folded eyes, Pat his little dimpled hands.

On a time he went away, Just a little while to stay, And I'm not ashamed to say I was very lonely then;