With tiny head
’Neath golden wing secreted;
By firelight’s glare
And easy chair
And cosy cushions wooed,
Alone I sit,
With lamps unlit,
In peaceful solitude.
My tired feet
Soft slippers greet;
With tiny head
’Neath golden wing secreted;
By firelight’s glare
And easy chair
And cosy cushions wooed,
Alone I sit,
With lamps unlit,
In peaceful solitude.
My tired feet
Soft slippers greet;