Poems (Elliott)/In Sleepytown
In Sleepytown
The bleating lambs have gone to rest, The baby sleeps on its Mother's breast, The wee white chicks are warmly hovered,The tiny calf is tenderly mothered In Sleepytown.
The brown elves dance in the bright moonbeams,The fairies flit in our land of dreams, But the ghosts are afraid of candle light, And only come out late at night In Sleepytown.
I love to watch the wood-fire glow And the purring cat on the hearth below,And my Mother's face above me bent Then I close my eyes in sweet content In Sleepytown.
Aetat 8.