At the Bars of Memory and Other Poems/Old Sleepy Town
OLD SLEEPY TOWN
Little Curly Head is sleepy, an' his tried little eyes
Are heavy an' most as blinky as the stars up up in the skies;
He's tryin' to keep them open, but the lids keep pullin' down,
An his little feet are headed for the streets o' Sleepy Town!
Old Sleepy Town's a quiet place us old folks used to know—
Perhaps you have forgotten, for it was long, long ago—
When we used to seek its portals when the candle's yellow light
Was snuffed, an' mother whispered low: "Goodnight, my child, goodnight!"
Old Sleepy Town is border'd by the emerald Sea o' Dreams,
An' the streets are pav'd with lollypops an' nuts an' choc'late creams,
An' on each corner there's a stand, an' lemonade is free,
An' sugar-plums are hangin' from the maple-frostin' tree!
An' in the public fountain in the center o ' the town.
The big bowl's overflowin' an' sweet nectar's runnin' down,
An' little naked kewpies on a great big caramel sled
Are coastin' right down mountains made o' cake an' ginger bread!
Old Sleepy Town's a dear old place … W e lov'd it long ago,
Long afore our heads were whitened with Time's never-failin' snow;
An' just as we once lov'd it in the hallowed days now dead,
It is near an' dear to baby … to our little Curly Head!