And a gleam of gold in his tangled hair;
His beautiful eyes, so soft and blue,
’Neath rose leaf lids are hidden from view;
For sound asleep is my little boy,
My troublesome comfort, baby Roy!
But ah! there’s something upon his cheek
Of which I do not like to speak;
So I kneel beside my baby dear,
And softly kiss away the tear.
And I kiss from his rosy mouth a pout,