Page:Over the river, and other poems.djvu/78

 has gone to the land of dreams. Hush, or you'll wake him ! how still it seems! Carefully shut the bedroom door; Noiselessly tip-toe across the floor. See how sweet he looks as he lies With fringed lids shutting the dark-brown eyes; One pink palm pressing the dimpled cheek And his red lips parted as if to speak. Yonder in the low rocking-chair Is a broken plaything, he left it there; And there, in the corner beside the door, Lies a motley heap of many more,