BABY BOBBY.
I know a house so full of noise,
You'd think a regiment of boys,
From early morn till close of day,
Were busy with their romping play.
And yet, I'm ready to declare,
There is but one small youngster there,—
A little golden-headed chap,
Who used to think his mother's lap
The nicest place that e'er could be,
Until he grew so big that he
Was most a man, and learned what fun
It is to shout and jump and run.
This restless, noisy little elf
Has learned, alas! to think himself
Too old in mother's arms to sleep;
Yet his blue eyes he cannot keep
From hiding 'neath their lids so white;
And, climbing to the sofa's height,
He snuggles down, forgets his play,
And into Dreamland sails away;
And then it is that mamma knows
Why the whole house so silent grows.
MARY D. BRINE.
