![]() A loving little ghost it is: When crept into its nest, Its hand on father's shoulder laid, Its head on mother's breast, It watches each familiar face, With a tranquil, trusting eye And, like a sleepy little bird, Sings its own soft lullaby. Fancies innocent and lovely Shine before those baby-eyes, - Endless fields of dandelions, Brooks, and birds, and butterflies. A thoughtful little ghost if is And, when lonely gambols tire, With chubby hands on chubby knees, It sits winking at the fire. A merry little ghost it is, Dancing gayly by itself, On the flowery counterpane, Like a tricksy household elf Nodding to the fitful shadows, As they flicker on the wall Talking to familiar pictures, Mimicking the owl's shrill call. ![]() The solitude is full of friends, And the hour brings no regrets For, in this happy little soul, Shines a sun that never sets. A fearless little ghost it is Safe the night seems as the day The moon is but a gentle face, And the sighing winds are gay. Up it climbs among the pillows, For the "big dark" brings no dread, And a baby's boundless fancy Makes a kingdom of a bed. A winsome little ghost it is, Rosy-cheeked, and bright of eye With yellow curls all breaking loose From the small cap pushed awry. ![]() ![]() OFT, in the silence of the night, When the lonely moon rides high, When wintry winds are whistling, And we hear the owl's shrill cry, In the quiet, dusky chamber, By the flickering firelight, Rising up between two sleepers, Comes a spirit all in white. ![]()
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