LI'L EMPTY CLOSET
There's a li'l empty closet in a li'l empty room,
Where th' shadows lie like dust upon th' floor;
It uster be HIS closet not s' very long ago—
That's why I don't go near it any more.
Every li'l hook is empty, 'ceptin' one, an' from it
hangs
(Th' whitest li'l ghost that ever grew
In a heart that's near ter breakin' with it's agony o'
grief! )
An empty flannel nightie piped with blue.
Jus' a li'l flannel nightie that was shrunken in th'
wash,
In spots th' blue has ran inter th' white;
But I've seen him in it, sleepy, when I tucked th'
covers in,
An' kissed him, soft, an took away th' light.
Jus' a li'l flannel nightie, hangin' empty on a hook,
As if it was ashamed—or in disgrace—
Jus' a li'l flannel nightie an' it ain't no use no more,
But I couldn't bear t' take it from its place!
Jus' a li'l empty closet in a li'l empty room,
Where th' shadows lie like dust upon th' floor—
It uster be his closet, where I'd put his clothes away,
That's why I hate ter go there any more.
But I've left his li'l nightie hangin' on a single hook,
I sorter had ter leave it there, I guess;
Ah, that li'l empty closet in that li'l empty room
Is crowded—crowded ful o' loneliness!
TWO LULLABYS
I. To A DREAM BABY
Oh, little child whose face I cannot see,
I feel your presence very near tonight,
I feel the warmth of you creep close to me...
The grey moths drift across the candlelight,
And tiny shadows sway across the floor,
Like wistful elves who do a fairy dance;
The wind is tapping softly at the door,
And rain is beating, like a silver lance,
Against the tightly curtained window pane.
Oh, little child whose face I cannot see,
The loneliness, the twilight, and the rain,
Have brought your dearness very close to me.
And though I rock with empty arms, I sing
A lullaby that I have made to croon
Into your drowsy shadow ear—a song
About the star sheep and the shepherd moon!
II. POPPY LAND
Sleep, little tired eyes, close to the heart of me,
Sleep while the sun trembles low in the west;
You who are dream of my dreams, and a part of
me—
Sleep with your head lying warm on my breast.
Dear, there's a land that is filled with red flowers,
Poppies, they call them, that sway in the breeze;
Sometimes their petals, in soft scarlet showers,
Fall in warm drifts that are high as your
knees....
Dear, in your dreams you will laugh as you roll
through them,
Waving your arms in an effort to creep;
Gently they nod as the wind sings its soul through
them,
Sleep, little tired eyes, sleep....
Dear, in this land there's a sky like a feather,
Blue in some places, or white as a star;
And there's a fragrance—a plant that's called heather
Grows in the spot where the butterflies are.
Dear, there are pastures as gay as glad laughter,
Dotted with hundreds of woolly white sheep,
Dear, you can pat them, for they'll follow after
You, as you sleep....
Dream, little tired eyes, close to the breast of me,
Wander in fields where red flowers are gloaming;
All of my heart wanders with you, the rest of me
Watches your dreaming....